


Love Only Knows

by veronicaluv



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicaluv/pseuds/veronicaluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years have passed since Martin walked away from Danny, but a chance meeting changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Only Knows

_You were the secret I loved keep_

_the name I would only sing in my sleep_

Martin Fitzgerald frowned at the phone in his hand, seeing what he didn't want to see—a new text. He'd left the phone in the truck and by the time he'd climbed back inside after retrieving his dry cleaning, she'd sent a another message, one that probably looked a lot like the one she'd sent that morning and the day before. Despite the recent change in their relationship, he knew she needed an answer.

He'd tried to say all the right things when he'd broken up with her. She'd done nothing wrong—in fact, she'd been great. He'd told her that at the time and he'd meant it. On paper, attorney Maria Davalos was pretty damn close to perfect. Professional, smart, comfortable in her own skin and a loving mother to her grown children, she offered companionship and intimacy with few strings attached—or so he'd thought. Their first year together had been a good one; he'd been teaching at Quantico for eighteen months when she'd attended one of his lectures, and an invitation for coffee had started them on a path to a relationship that included attending holiday parties and vacationing together on Turks and Caicos.

But Martin had waited too long—or maybe hadn't thought it mattered—to tell her what he'd admitted to himself early on in their relationship, that it would only go so far. He enjoyed her company but was content without it, and if he paused to consider an admittedly hazy future, he didn't see her as a part of it.

He finally realized that she was making plans beyond the next weeks and months when she asked him to look at property that was suitable for a house they could build together. Martin's unplanned response that he wasn't sure he was staying in Virginia beyond the end of the year had come as an obvious shock to Maria, and soon after Martin had told her that he felt they shouldn't see each other any more. She'd taken it well, seemingly unsurprised after the property debacle, but she'd wanted to remain friends while Martin yearned for a clean break.

He also didn't want to be a jerk as he tried to walk the very fine line between caring friend and disinterested ex-boyfriend, and he'd apparently done a crappy job. As he sat in the truck and read her text—a reminder that he'd agreed to attend a black tie dinner given by one of her attorney's groups—he considered his options. He could go with her and then try and convince himself that breaking up with her had been preemptive, or he could say no and then keep easing himself away from her until she finally understood that as far as he was concerned, they were done.

The first choice left him cold while the second filled him with a vague sense of excitement. He liked his job as an instructor but lately he'd begun to feel hedged in by the repetition. Five years away from New York had allowed him to recuperate both physically and mentally from a job that had tested him almost beyond his capabilities. If the squad hadn't been dissolved in '09, he doubted that he'd have made it another year. His body had never fully recovered from the Dornvald shooting, and with prescription painkillers now forever on his Can't Have list, some days it took him five minutes to loosen up enough to get out of bed.

But he still missed the adrenaline rush of the chase, as well as the intellectual stimulation of solving a puzzle. What he didn't miss was the constant threat of tragedy that loomed over every case, threats that all too often were fulfilled when a body was found instead of a live person. Teaching had its challenges, but at the end of the day, it was all about theory and past cases, and sometimes those past cases were a little hard to relive.

And he still missed his team, even though time and distance had taken their toll. Now the only one he remained in touch with was Vivian, and that consisted of a call around the holidays or on his birthday. It was through her that he learned that Jack had taken a position in the Chicago office to be near his kids, a decision made easier once Hannah had decided to attend college in Illinois. Sam and Brian had gotten married and they'd had their second child, a girl, in 2011. Sam still worked for the FBI as an analyst, and she and Vivian had lunch together every couple of months.

As for Danny and Elena—it was a matter of some pride that Martin had managed to learn as little about their post-squad lives as possible. He knew that Danny had passed the bar and he'd quit the FBI, but beyond that, he avoided the subject with Viv. If she noticed, she never let on, usually because Martin was very good at deflecting the conversation back to Viv and her position as lead investigator in another of the FBI's elite units.

Five years later, Martin's feelings for Danny weren't much more painful than a fading bruise, a melancholy thought that drifted through his mind every once in a while. They'd been complicated once, those feelings—love, lust, anger, shame—but now they'd mellowed into nothing more than a sad refrain that played in his memory. A sound, a scent, the back of a dark-haired head, those were the kind of things that reminded him that he'd once loved Danny Taylor, loved him and lost him, and Danny had never known a thing.

Staring down at his phone, he sighed. He knew Maria hated these dinners and had been counting on him to provide some distraction from the dry speeches, lousy food, and political back-scratching. He didn't want to go and had in fact planned to spend the cool autumn Friday night building a bonfire in his backyard with only his chocolate Lab Clancy for company. But in the end, he couldn't say no. If Maria read more into his attendance than he intended, he'd deal with the fallout later.

He'd made plans to meet Maria at the hotel in Alexandria, so he drove up alone, intending to drive back home after the dinner instead of getting a room and staying overnight. There was a storm brewing off the coast that had everyone worried, and Martin wanted to be safe at home before it hit.

The air in the spacious reception hall of the Marcus Hotel was warm and sticky, laden with the scents of expensive perfume and fussy, unappealing appetizers that were being passed on trays by stone-faced waiters. Martin had to shove his free hand into the pocket of his tuxedo trousers to stop himself from tugging at his collar, only reaching out when a tray of ice water came within reach. He nodded at a few acquaintances but mostly kept to himself, content to watch Maria work the room, partaking in conversation directed at him but starting none of his own.

This was always the hardest part, the mingling, the small talk, the clammy handshakes and air kisses, the "Oh, how's your father?" questions he got over and over again. Once they'd made it through the cocktail hour, they'd be seated at a table for eight and at least he'd have the distraction of mediocre hotel food until the speeches started. Then he'd be truly trapped, forced to listen to an hour's worth of stale lawyer jokes and self-congratulatory tales of political downfalls wrought by eagle-eyed attorneys. Someone would be honored, a charity would be highlighted, and finally the evening would be over and Martin's weekend could begin.

Beside him, Maria spotted a friend and with a smile and a tilt of her head, she left Martin to move across the lobby, leaving him in a little pocket of solitude. Seeing an opportunity to get some air, he ascended the wide staircase that led to the second floor mezzanine. Once on the landing, he felt cool air and followed it to a set of French doors that opened up onto a broad, sheltered balcony.

In an effort to avoid anyone who'd found this refuge before him, he headed toward a far corner, where shadows from a large column would give him even more privacy. As far as he could tell, he was alone—the balcony was chilly and damp, a result of the approaching storm that all the media said was coming in swift and hard. After a quick check of the weather on his phone, he put it in his pocket and leaned his hip against the rail, taking in the view of the lights of Alexandria and making a mental list of projects he could work on around the house if the power went out.

A soft murmur to his left interrupted his reverie, making him frown. The thick pillar he'd been standing next to prevented him from seeing the speaker and, annoyed that he'd lost his moment of privacy, he started to turn away, but something about the low voice caught his attention. It sounded familiar, a voice from his past that had no place in his life now, and despite his better judgment telling him there was nothing to it, he shifted closer to the column, straining to hear the voice above the dull hum of traffic coming up from the busy thoroughfare below.

The voice faded, then returned, loud enough for Martin to make out some of the words, a few of which seemed to be in Spanish. That was the detail that really stood out—without that soft accent, and those words that sounded like _baby_ and _sweet dreams_ —he might never have made the seemingly impossible connection.

Telling himself he was wrong, that it couldn't possibly be true that the person belonging to that voice was here, at this boring event hundreds of miles from New York, Martin took a deep breath and stepped around the pillar, preparing himself to apologize to the stranger he was about to startle.

The man in the sharply cut tuxedo was just slipping his phone into his inner jacket pocket. The shadows hid his face, so Martin's first impression was that his mind was still playing tricks on him. Though tall and lean, it was the tilt of the stranger's angular shoulders that seemed so achingly familiar that Martin's breath caught in his chest. Then the man stepped out of the shadows, silver light playing over his cheekbones and slanting across his eyes, eyes that had seen all the darkness that had once lived inside Martin's soul—and none of the love that had replaced that darkness.

Eyes wide, a tentative smile softening his wide mouth, Danny Taylor took the last five years of Martin's life and with one whispered word tossed them aside as if only a day had passed since that rainy Friday that they'd said goodbye in the nondescript lobby of the FBI building.

"Martin?"

*****

Maybe it had always been in the back of Danny's mind, the idea that being in Virginia would bring him nearer to Martin Fitzgerald. Not a fully formed concept, but whenever he thought about D.C., his thoughts automatically turned to Martin, thoughts that always had a hint of confusion and an inexplicable tinge of sadness and hurt. There was certainly no reason for those feelings, he and Martin had parted on good terms, full of promises to call each other often and half-formed plans to get together as soon as their schedules allowed. Yet even as he'd watch Martin walk away with a box of miscellaneous items he'd salvaged from his desk, there had been a nagging sense of unease, a feeling that Danny shouldn't let Martin walk out of his life so easily.

Martin had been the first to leave the team, once it had been announced that the special missing persons unit was being discontinued. Everyone else had been surprised that Martin had taken a teaching position at Quantico, but it had come as no surprise to Danny. He'd watched Martin long enough to see that he was hurting, both in body and mind, and that the end of the squad was probably more of a blessing for him than for anyone—especially since Danny would've bet money that Martin would have gone on, day after day, week after week, case after case, as long as he was needed and to hell with the personal cost.

Danny's own life had just been starting down a path that at the time seemed full of promise and hope. He'd married the woman he loved, he had the family he'd always wanted and, six months after Martin left, Danny passed the bar. After that, the decisions came fast and hard. He and Elena moved to Brooklyn so he could start his practice and she could commute into the city. She'd taken another FBI assignment that had almost as much stress as the missing persons unit, leaving Danny to balance the opening of his office and taking care of Sophie. It was a happy, tumultuous time, filled with exciting opportunities that had Danny believing he'd found a storybook ending that rivaled any fairy tale. He'd once thought he was destined to be alone, that all his flaws made him inherently unlovable, but in 2009, he'd had every reason to believe that he'd avoided that sad destiny.

At first, not a week went by that he didn't think about calling Martin. Sometimes it was to share something from his day, like a prospective client who wanted to sue his mother for ruining his love life, or maybe it was to tease Martin about teaching a class of fresh-faced recruits. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to Martin and a hundred distractions that prevented him from picking up the phone, and soon months had passed without any contact between them.

And now, staring at Martin on the sheltered balcony of the hotel, Danny was acutely aware that everything he'd gained since he'd last seen Martin had been irretrievably lost.

But that didn't take away from the flare of deep pleasure at seeing Martin, whose blue eyes were wide with shock.

"Danny? Oh my God!"

Martin held out his hand and Danny took it, their hands colliding before coming together in a tight grasp. There was no friendly handshake here, no vaguely uncomfortable, stuttered greetings. Without thinking, without expecting anything less, their hands twisted and they pulled at each other until they were in a tight embrace, Danny's arms curving around Martin, muscles tightening as they tried to get closer. Danny's eyes fluttered shut as he breathed in the subtle scent of cologne that lingered on Martin's skin, an earthy, deep scent different than the more sophisticated cologne Martin used to wear.

For all its intensity, the hug was brief enough that Danny felt shaken when Martin leaned away, retaining his grip on Danny's hand. That's when Danny saw something unexpected, but explained why Martin hadn't been able to fully return Danny's embrace.

They both started talking at once, then broke into laughter as Martin finally let go of Danny's hand.

"Jesus, Danny, what are you doing here?"

Danny shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to regain some of the balance he'd lost from this unexpected meeting. He'd never really believed that he'd run into Martin at this event, let alone be standing in front of a man he almost didn't recognize. Dressed in an impeccable tuxedo that no doubt had a designer label sewn on it somewhere, Martin was leaner, grayer, the lines bracketing his mouth deeper, yet his eyes were just as blue as Danny remembered, his smile just as warm.

"I'm here with the Second Season group." At Martin's frown, Danny continued. "It's a non-profit advocacy organization I got involved in a couple years ago. The director is making her pitch for donations after dinner."

Martin grinned. "Ah, you mean after everyone's had a couple of glasses of wine."

Danny laughed. "Hey, man, whatever it takes."

"Believe me, that'll work with this crowd. Hey, is Elena here? I'd love to see her—"

"No, she, uh, she couldn't make it." Danny forced a smile as his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. "So what are what are you doing here, Professor?"

"I'm here with my—I'm here with a friend. She's an attorney, asked me to be her date for the night."

"Oh?" Danny smirked at Martin, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow. After all this time, he could still tell when Martin was hedging the truth, and something about Martin's offhand description of his companion didn't ring true. "This attorney, she's just a friend?"

Martin's eyes slid past Danny's to gaze out into the night. "She is now," he said.

Sensing more to the story, Danny hesitated to tease Martin any more, even though he wanted to bring a smile back to Martin's eyes. "Listen," he said, "we're going to have to go back inside soon, right? I'm not heading back to New York until Sunday. You want to try and get together?"

Martin's face lit up. "That would be great! Where are you staying?"

Danny's expression turned comically sad. "Not in this place, that's for sure. You know how much a room costs here? I've had mortgage payments that are lower than the room rate."

"Yeah, I know, it's ridiculous, but that's par for the course around here."

"Well, if you have any suggestions—"

"Wait, you don't have reservations somewhere?"

"I don't, I came along at the last minute. Why, do you think it'll be a problem?"

"Yeah, I heard on the radio that hotel rooms were filling up because of the storm."

"I don't—"

"Martin? There you are!" Martin turned toward the French doors and Danny looked past him to see a woman standing on the threshold, a glass of champagne in her hand. "Dinner's starting, are you ready to come inside?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute." The woman smiled impartially at them both and left them as Martin turned back to Danny. "Guess we'd better go in, huh?"

Danny inclined his head toward the door. "That was your friend? Leave it to you to have a friend who looks like a super model."

"Yeah, well, that super model is going to be a grandmother in another four months. Anyway, she is just a friend. We had something going on once, but not anymore. Tonight is just a favor."

"Some things never change, do they." Danny nudged Martin with his elbow as they began walking toward the door, Danny positioning himself on Martin's right side. "Martin Fitzgerald, still playing Galahad."

"Nah, that's not my gig anymore," Martin replied. "I leave that kind of thing to you bleeding heart lawyers. Listen," he continued, "give me a call tomorrow, let me know where you're staying. I'll drive up and we'll have dinner. You have my cell number, right?"

For a brief moment, Danny was speechless. Having dinner with Martin was suddenly exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Just seeing him again, this brief conversation, was enough to make a slight dent in the misery that Danny had been living with since everything had fallen apart.

He was just about to propose that they make dinner plans immediately when the lights flickered above them. There were a few gasps from the crowd inside as the lights went out completely, then came back on again.

"That was interesting," Martin said as they entered the ballroom. "I wonder if the storm is coming in earlier than they'd anticipated."

"I hope not. If I can't get a room, I'll probably get stuck at the train station."

"Yeah, you and fifty thousand of your closest friends if they close down the airports. Listen," Martin stopped Danny with a hand on his arm, "meet up with me after the speeches and we'll nail down a plan."

"Sounds good." Danny swallowed against a lump in his throat, afraid of the answer to his next question. "Hey, Martin?"

Martin nodded at a passing acquaintance, then returned his attention to Danny. "Yeah?"

"What's with the cane?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Martin lifted the cane until the tip was eye level. "If I told you I used it only because it made me look dashing, would you believe me?"

"Not for a minute," Danny replied. "Is it from..." He waved his hand, unwilling to complete the thought out loud, to say the name that had haunted so many sleepless hours that had piled on one on top of the other after that horrible night.

"Nah, this isn't from the shooting." Martin lowered the cane and leaned on it. "It's my hip, it hasn't been right since that night on the roof. Now there's just bone scraping on bone and the cane relieves some of the pressure. There's a hip replacement in my near future, just haven't had the time to do anything about it."

Danny positioned himself directly in front of Martin, not even questioning why this was any of his business after all these years. In a strange way, their history together ensured that some part of Martin belonged to Danny, and now all kinds of feelings, long buried and misunderstood, were coming forward. Those feelings had always been there, five years or fifty would never change that—and Danny was just beginning to realize what that meant.

"Does it hurt?" He kept his voice low and even, his eyes on Martin's face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Maybe it was intrusive, even rude, but Danny had been there when Martin had struggled to stay straight, and it would break his heart if Martin felt he had to lie about it now.

Martin gazed back calmly at Danny, their connection reasserting itself with surprising ease. Then Martin nodded. "Yeah, maybe thirty percent of the time. But I've got a good doctor who knows my history, so we work it out."

Instantly, Danny relaxed. Martin was telling the truth, of that he was sure. In fact, this Martin seemed more at home in his skin than the Martin who'd left the squad five years ago. That Martin had been angry, worn out, the situation with the attractive con artist having taken so much out of him that what was left had been brittle to the point of breaking.

But despite the leaner physique and the threads of gray hair at his temples, Martin was obviously more content, if not necessarily happier, than the day they'd parted.

"Glad to hear it," Danny said, though there was so much more that he wanted to say. The crowd was beginning to settle into place, everyone finding their table as waiters began circulating the room with large trays.

"Listen," Martin said, "there's usually a break after the main course, before dessert. Meet me back here by the ice sculpture and we'll figure out something for tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

They parted, Danny making his way to join his group. Normally they were people he enjoyed being around, but as the salad course was served, he tuned them out, his eyes on Martin, sitting two tables away. Martin looked like he was in his element, his beautiful "friend" to his right, an older gentleman to his left, both of them on the receiving end of Martin's affectionate attention. But just as Danny was telling himself to look away, to think about something else, Martin looked over at him and smiled—and the world and the years apart faded away.

Halfway through dinner—chicken something, with over-steamed vegetables—the lights flickered but stayed on. There was another round of nervous laughter and everyone reached for their phones to check the weather. Less than thirty seconds later it happened again, and now Danny could tell that the crowd was paying more attention to their news feeds and Twitter than to the speakers.

The break after the main course couldn't come fast enough for Danny, and when it did, he excused himself and made his way over to the ice sculpture, scanning the room for Martin but not seeing him, since almost everyone had gotten up from their tables, phones in hand. He thought about trying to use the time to find a place to stay, but his thoughts scattered when he spotted Martin talking to an elderly lady near the podium. He watched as they parted, Martin bending close to press a kiss to the lady's pale cheek, then come over to Danny's side with a wry grin on his face.

"How was your chicken?" Martin asked.

"Rubbery," Danny replied. "Yours?"

Martin frowned. "I'm not really sure it was chicken. Hell, I'm not even sure it was technically food. But I'm holding out hope for dessert. Not too many ways they can screw up cheesecake, right?"

The lights flickered again and went out to another chorus of gasps and cries. This time, they didn't come back on, and the only illumination in the room was from the battery powered emergency lights placed strategically along the walls.

"Maybe we won't get the chance to find out," Danny said.

They both waited, along with everyone else, for the lights to come back on, but watching the hotel staff gathering at one side of the room to receive instructions from someone in a suit, Danny had a feeling they'd be waiting a long time.

He nudged Martin with his elbow and inclined his head toward the staff. "That doesn't look good. I think they're getting ready to herd us out of here."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Looks like this party is over."

_No, damn it_. But Danny knew it was true—people were already gathering up their things, even though no official announcement had been made.

"Listen, I'd better find my group, see what the plan is now."

"Okay." Martin looked around the dim room, probably searching through the crowd for Maria. "Listen, circle back with me in fifteen minutes. By then we'll know if they're going to go on with this thing."

Danny hesitated, because he wasn't sure what meeting with Martin again would accomplish. He was already feeling as though they were going to part too soon, and even with the promise of dinner the next day, he knew that he was going to spend the rest of this night lost in memories and dreams of what he'd lost before he'd known what he really wanted. He wasn't ready for this abrupt separation, wasn't ready to let Martin out of his sight.

"Yeah, okay," he heard himself saying. "Back here, by the sculpture?"

He was rewarded with one of Martin's smiles, the falling sensation in his stomach reminding him how much he'd once ached at night over something—or someone—he couldn't have. All the miles and all the years hadn't soothed that ache, not even when he'd convinced himself that Elena was his future and anything else was nothing but a dream. And he'd known, he'd always known, that if this moment ever came, he'd have to come to terms with the kind of feelings that Elena had never brought up in him, no matter how much he wanted her to be the answer to that ache.

Fifteen minutes later, it was obvious that the banquet couldn't go on. Everyone had consulted their phones and found that the storm had taken a sharp turn and had intensified to the point that flights were being canceled and any rooms available within twenty blocks had been snapped up. That meant Danny was going to have to take the train home, but that also meant a long, lonely wait in the terminal with all the other unfortunate travelers caught on the wrong side of the weather.

"Yeah, that's it." Martin rejoined Danny at the table holding the dripping ice sculpture. The ballroom in front of them was clearing out, the staff rapidly breaking down the tables. "Looks like you'll have to reschedule your pitch."

"Great." Danny plucked at his bow tie until the knot loosened and fell apart. "I'll be lucky if I get home by Monday." At Martin's questioning look, he continued. "Yeah, I checked with the front desk. This hotel is booked and they're pretty sure every other room has been filled, too. Guess I'll head try and catch a cab to the train station."

He held out his hand, wishing that this night hadn't ended this way, wishing that he wasn't saying goodbye to Martin Fitzgerald one more time. Martin ignored his outstretched hand, narrowed eyes gazing across the dim room.

"Forget that," he said. "You can stay with me."

"What? You mean, like, tonight?"

"Yeah, tonight," Martin said, his growing enthusiasm unmistakeable. "No, listen, it's perfect. If this storm gets as bad as they're predicting, the trains are going to be delayed anyway. Better to wait it out at my place than a train station, and as soon as we know you've found a way home, I can run you up to the station or airport myself."

It was so tempting, so exactly what Danny knew what was wrong for him to agree to, yet he could only see a few more hours spent in Martin's company. He'd pay for it later, after they parted, after they both went back to lives that didn't include each other, but maybe it would be enough.

"Yeah, okay," he said with a grin, "let's do it."

*****

Getting out of the hotel was surprisingly easy. Maria had a booked a room in advance and before she could offer to share it with Martin, he told her he was going home, just as he'd originally planned. By the time Danny had retrieved his luggage from the front desk and said goodbye to his friends, Martin had pulled his truck up to the front entrance and was anxious to go, one eye on the threatening weather. As he got out of the driver's side to help Danny put his overnight kit and garment bag behind the seats, he was unsurprised to see Danny smirking at him.

"A truck, Martin? Wait, not just a truck, but a crew cab? Have you gone completely country?"

"Shut up," Martin said with a laugh. "I got a good deal on a used one, okay? Besides, this way there's enough room for Clancy to move around."

Danny waited until they were both sitting in the cab, buckling their seat belts. "Clancy? Who's Clancy?""

"You'll meet him soon enough."

Martin pulled out into the street, noticing that the city was almost deserted. The wind had picked up to the point that it was rocking his two ton truck, but the real rain had yet to set in, since currently it wasn't much more than a light spray against his windows. He was still a little shell-shocked at the turn of events that had led to Danny Taylor sitting beside him in the dark, like a hundred nights in their past but unlike anything they'd every shared.

It was during those long, dark nights on countless cases that Martin got to know Danny, especially after Martin got caught up in his addiction. Those were tough, tough times, when Danny was struggling to support Martin and Martin was struggling to not need that support. The intimacy of those nights had both scared and comforted Martin as he began to learn to live not only without drugs, but without a lot of misconceptions that had latched onto his psyche like barnacles on a boat. He hadn't known it at the time, but it was the beginning of the process that had brought him to the life he was living now, a life free from lies, a life he lived without the deceptions he'd once had about himself.

"So tell me, really, how do you like teaching?"

Danny's voice was quiet, as if in deference to the dark and the chill that existed just beyond the metal frame of the truck.

"I like it," Martin admitted easily. "The kids coming through today, man, they're already so far ahead of where we were even ten years ago. And they all think they're smarter, too."

"Good thing we were never like that, right?"

Martin laughed along with Danny, stealing a look at his profile before turning his eyes back to the road. Now that they'd been in each other's company without the distraction of the dinner, he was picking up on something different about Danny, something he hadn't noticed before. Danny was older—hell, they both were—and while he looked exactly as Martin would've expected him to look after five years apart, there was a weight on those slender shoulders that could almost be seen.

"So tell me about your life," he said. "How's Elena? She's with that special squad now, right? And Sophia, I bet she's beautiful."

There was a pause and Martin glanced at Danny again, troubled to see that Danny had turned his head away. When he turned back, he gave Martin a smile that so fake it was painful to see.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Oh, Elena, yeah, she's good, she's good. She, uh, really likes her job. And Sophia—that's who I was talking to on the phone tonight—she's a great kid."

It was like pulling teeth, but then Martin wasn't really that interested in hearing how happy Danny was. Still, maybe if he knew Danny was doing great and content with his life with Elena, it would be easier to let go again. "Are you guys still living in Brooklyn?"

"Martin," Danny began, then shook his head with a little laugh. "Oh, God, what the hell. Elena and I are divorced. Have been for almost three years now."

It was a miracle that Martin was able to keep his concentration on the road. Of all the things he expected Danny to say, that wasn't on the list. And at no time during his infrequent conversations with Viv did she mention this devastating piece of news.

"I—Danny, I'm sorry. I didn't know, obviously, I mean—what happened?"

"What happened, yeah, I'm still trying to figure that one out myself. We just—we drifted apart, I guess."

Martin didn't say anything out loud, but he didn't believe for a second that Danny and Elena had just "drifted apart." The last time he'd seen them, they'd been deeply in love and planning a life together, and now Danny was telling him that within two years, all that love had disappeared. No, Martin wasn't buying it, but he also wasn't too sure he wanted to get into the details of what went wrong. He'd always thought of Elena as a nice person, but if she'd broken Danny's heart, that opinion would be changed without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Danny, I can't believe it. You two—you two were good together."

"Were we?" Martin glanced at Danny, surprised to see Danny looking back at him, his expression hard to read as the lights from the highway flashed against his face. "Two years, Martin, we lasted two years, and the last six months of those two years we hardly spoke at all, except to call each other and apologize for working late or taking a meeting when we should've been at Sophie's soccer game. Elena, she was still in the business, you know? Long hours, lots of travel, cases that took her away for days a time."

"I remember," Martin murmured. "It can suck you dry."

"Not Elena. She was thriving, doing really well with the Bureau, so well they were planning on letting her organize her own task force before the budget cuts hit again."

"Yeah, but what about you? You were starting your own law firm, right?"

Danny chuckled, but the sound wasn't a happy one. "My own firm? Not exactly. More like a cardboard box, a stool, and a five year old laptop missing half its screws to hold it together. I wanted to help people, you know? I wanted people without resources to have a safe place to go and someone they could trust. Elena—she didn't understand that. She thought that if I wanted to help people, I should go into politics."

"Wow," Martin muttered. "Politics? Man, Danny, I'm so sorry. It was the last thing I expected, I mean—do you get to see Sophie?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Martin could see Danny tug at his ear—it was a tell, so whatever Danny said next might not necessarily be the truth.

"Yeah, sure, not as often as I like, but—Elena, she has someone new in her life, so—"

"So there's not a lot of room for you."

Danny didn't respond, and as they drove on in silence, Martin felt all the old feelings about Danny and Elena fade away in a haze of sadness. He'd lied when he'd told Danny that he thought the two of them were good together, but it was meant to be a kind lie, one he hoped Danny would never discover. There was no point in dragging out old emotions that Martin had spent the last five years burying, and he had to look on this time with Danny as a gift.

A gust of wind nearly took the steering wheel out of his hands. He corrected and slowed down, noticing that the visibility through the windshield was also deteriorating. The rain had starting falling in earnest when they'd been talking about Elena, and now it was coming down so fast and so hard the the windshield wipers could barely keep up.

"This looks bad," Danny muttered.

"It is, and it's only going to get worse once we get off the highway."

"Yeah, why's that?"

"I live on two and a half acres out in the woods, so let's hope there's no downed trees on the road or we're spending the night in this truck."

Surprisingly, that made Danny laugh, only this time it was one of real amusement. "Wouldn't be the first time you and I have spent an uncomfortable night in a car, right? You remember that time we were stuck in Jersey, waiting to see if that guy was going to show up at his mistress's apartment?"

Martin groaned, but he was actually glad that the subject had been changed. "Yeah, and he was inside the whole time, hiding from the guys who were trying to kill him. That was one long night."

"Aw, it wasn't so bad. "

"No, but that coffee was."

"Hey, that was the best I could find at four a.m., but it wasn't as bad as that stuff we had to drink that night at Coney Island."

On safer emotional ground, they talked over old times as Martin drove on, most of his attention on keeping his truck on the road. He asked about Danny's brother and was disappointed but unsurprised to hear that Rafi was still incarcerated. Sylvia had stayed by him and while Danny described her as a single parent, Martin knew from the hitch in Danny's voice when he talked about spending time with his niece and nephew that he wasn't as deeply involved in their lives as he wanted to be.

The miles slipped away as they reminisced, but as bad as conditions were on the highway, Martin knew they would get worse once they reached the private road that led to his house. By the time they reached the turnoff, he was really struggling with the truck. They stopped talking, Danny understanding that Martin needed to focus on the road ahead. The headlights could barely cut through the sheets of rain falling sideways, but the truck's high beams revealed enough for them to see the debris that the wind caught up and tossed against the windshield.

After fifteen tense minutes, Martin finally breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the driveway to his property. He'd leveled and graveled the road the previous year, so he knew that unless one of the tall trees had fallen, they were home safe. They had about two hundred yards of tree-lined road to cover, then after making a sharp right turn, the house came into view.

Beside him, Danny let out a low whistle as they reached the paved portion of the driveway that circled in front of the house and led to the garage. "This is your place?"

Martin slowed down as he waited for the garage door to open. He glanced over at Danny, taken aback by his stunned expression.

"Yeah, sure. Why?"

Danny turned to him, that familiar look of teasing disbelief on his face. "I guess teaching at Quantico pays a little better than I'd expected. Do they have any openings?"

Martin could feel his cheeks flush with warmth, but it was from pleasure, not from embarrassment. "No, trust me, the pay is as lousy as you'd expect for a government job."

"This place didn't come cheap, Martin." Danny held up his hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. "You knock over a bank recently?"

Martin parked the truck in its slot between the Prius he drove to work and and the twenty-foot Bayliner he sailed on the weekends. "Nope, came by it honestly."

As the garage door closed behind them, both men climbed out of the truck, each of them reaching behind the seats to grab a piece of Danny's gear.

"Okay." Danny slung his garment bag over his shoulder as he followed Martin to a door on the other side of the truck. "I know—a trust fund. That's it, right? A trust fund?"

"Inheritance from my grandmother." Martin opened the door and stepped in ahead of Danny so he could turn on the light. They'd come through the kitchen door and Martin knew that the next thing that was going to happen was a traditional welcome home from Clancy. Sure enough, as soon as the door closed behind Danny, Clancy came lumbering into the kitchen, having no doubt regretfully given up his warm bed. He loped up to Martin and gave him his customary body check and an adoring look from his brown eyes, but then he turned his attention to the newcomer.

"Danny, meet Clancy, the laziest Labrador in the world."

Danny tossed the garment bag on the kitchen island and got down on one knee to greet Clancy, who was so happy at meeting Danny that his entire body quivered—slowly, because otherwise it took too much effort—from nose to tail. Martin left them to get acquainted as he walked into the living room, turning another light on low as he went. The kitchen was divided from the living room by a long counter and a couple of stools, and to the left of that, the room expanded into a common area fronted by two-story windows that looked out on an expanse of green lawn rolling down to a communal lake.

But nothing was visible through those windows tonight. Unless something tripped the motion sensors and set off the floodlights, the sheets of rain hitting the glass obscured any view. Still holding Danny's overnight bag, Martin turned when Danny and Clancy joined him in the living room.

"C'mon, let's get you settled. Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm starved. That banquet food left a lot to be desired."

Danny's eyes widened. "I'm glad I'm not the only one. Not gonna lie, I was wondering if I could talk Clancy into sharing his biscuits."

Martin led Danny down a short hall into the guest room, showed him where everything was, then left him alone to change out of his tuxedo. By the time Danny rejoined him in the common area, now dressed like Martin, who'd changed into a t-shirt and dark sweatpants, Martin had started a pot of water to boil and was defrosting a container of homemade pasta sauce in the microwave. A gust of wind shook the house, rattling the windows as Danny took a seat on one of the tall stools at the kitchen counter.

"It's getting worse." Martin handed Danny a mug of fresh coffee, with added sugar and milk, just how he knew Danny liked it. "We're going to lose power here, probably within the hour."

"Yeah?" Danny took a sip and smiled, though his gaze remained on the mug in his hands. "Hope you have a lot of candles."

"Better. I have a generator. It'll kick in if the power goes out, but I'll shut it down when we go to bed to save gas, just in case. Last time we had a storm like this, the power was out for five days and I ran out of gas after three."

"Maybe I was better off at the train station," Danny muttered, but a quick glance told Martin that Danny was kidding. Sitting there in a white t-shirt, chewing contentedly a bread stick, he looked younger and more relaxed than he had when they'd first met at the dinner. He hadn't smoothed down his hair after changing his shirt, so it stuck up in places, adding to the illusion of youth. He looked too thin to Martin's eyes, and that was saying a lot, since Danny had always leaned toward the skinny side.

But somehow, he was here, sitting in Martin's kitchen, and it was like the years since they'd parted had almost never happened. Toward the end of their time together, they'd been in each other's company less and less—Danny had been busy planning a future with Elena and Martin had been alone, except for that brief insanity with Kim. He tried not to think about Kim, still sitting in prison and no doubt manipulating her way through the system. But he'd admitted to himself years later that something like the situation with Kim had been bound to happen; she'd come along right when everything for him was falling apart.

Coming to terms with being an addict had been hard. Nothing in his upbringing or his training had prepared him for that label, that there was that kind of weakness hardwired into his body. But as difficult as accepting that had been, it had been devastating to watch Danny fall in love with Elena. For someone like Kim, Martin had been an easy mark, and he'd been lucky to get out of it with just a reprimand in his file and the wrath of Jack Malone coming down on his head.

The power went out as they were cleaning up, Danny rinsing off plates as Martin loaded the dishwasher. There was a brief silence, followed by a clunking sound, and then the lights came back on. Expecting the inevitable, Martin reached across the counter and picked up the phone out of habit, unsurprised when there was no dial tone on the land line.

"Okay, phone's out." Martin reached for a towel to dry his hands. "If you don't mind finishing this up, I need to go out."

"Whoa, wait a minute, go out where? To do what?" Danny motioned toward the windows, still drenched by the wind-driven rain. "Build an ark?"

Martin chuckled as he maneuvered around Clancy, who'd spread out on the kitchen rug once it was evident that food was no longer involved. "No, I have an elderly neighbor I need to check on." He glanced at his watch. "Listen, if you want to head to bed, feel free. I should only be gone half an hour."

"Isn't it kind of late for a house call? It's after midnight."

"She'll be up, she's a night owl. I just need to make sure she's got batteries and enough wood near the fireplace so she won't have to go out to the shed for more."

"Wait, hold up, I'll go with you."

Martin paused as Danny caught up to him in the living room. "Are you sure? It's miserable out there, no need for both of us to get soaked."

Danny shrugged, his old to-hell-with-it grin on his face. "Man, I got nothing but time. Plus I need to work off that pasta or I'll be up all night."

Martin clapped Danny on the back. "Hell of thing getting old, isn't it?"

"You would know better than I, my friend. Hey, do you have an extra raincoat I can borrow? I have a pair of Nikes with me but I don't think my tux is waterproof."

*****

Danny had been in bad storms before. As a kid living in Florida, he'd been through his fair share of hurricanes, so a little rain and wind didn't bother him. Still, once he and Martin were out in it, he was having a hard remembering why he'd volunteered to go in the first place.

But then all he had to do was keep his eyes on Martin limping ahead of him, head bowed as they struggled down the path that led to his neighbor's house. It was a stupid thing, really—it's not like they could talk over the storm's noise, but there was something about this night, something special, and Danny didn't want it to end, even if that meant getting wet from the rain that crept beneath the gear Martin had provided.

They arrived at the neighbor's house—Mrs. Cole, Martin had said—almost before Danny saw it. The house was completely dark, and even though his face was somewhat protected by the rim of the slicker he wore, there was still a lot of water getting into his eyes. As it was, he ran into Martin, who'd stopped at the edge of the drive as he fished a set of keys out of his pocket.

"You going in?" Danny had to raise his voice to be heard over the howl of the wind.

"If I have to," Martin yelled back, "she might not hear anyone knocking."

The front door offered enough shelter that they could push the hoods of their slickers off their faces. Martin lifted the heavy flashlight he'd brought and used it to knock on the door.

"Mrs. C? Mrs. C, it's Martin from next door. Just checking to see if you're okay."

They waited, then Danny saw a light flickering behind the pebbled glass window next to the door. The door opened to reveal a tall woman holding a thick pillar candle, a shawl wrapped around a flowing denim dress. At first he thought she was younger than Martin had described, but the flickering light of the candle, though at first kind, quickly revealed the deep wrinkles that lined her friendly face, and the two long braids that rested on her shoulders had long ago turned white.

"Martin!" Her genuine smile of delight showed a lack of two front teeth, one above and one below, but Danny found it charming anyway. "Come in, come in—oh, who's that with you?"

Martin made no move to enter the house. "This is my friend, Danny. He's staying with me until the storm passes. Danny, this is Regina Cole, but everyone around her just calls her Mrs. C."

Danny held out his hand for Mrs. C to shake. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Mrs. C's grip was firm as she shook Danny's hand. "It's always nice to meet a friend of Martin's, he's such a lovely boy."

"Yes," Danny agreed with a sidelong glance at an embarrassed Martin, "that's what we always called him around the office."

Martin crossed his arms over his chest. "All right, you two, that's enough. Listen, Mrs. C, are you okay, do you need anything?"

"Oh, bless you, no, I'm fine." She squinted at Martin. "Where's your cane? You didn't walk over here without it, did you?"

Danny had been wondering the same thing, though he hadn't asked when they'd started out, figuring it was none of his business. Martin had carried his flashlight in one hand and an opaque plastic bag in the other, so there'd been no way for him to use the cane, as well. The trip hadn't been easy—between the wind and the rough ground they had to cover, Martin seemed to struggle, but not enough to make Danny speak up. They'd taken a well-worn dirt path that skirted the lake instead of the taking the longer, safer route of the road, Martin telling him before they left that it would save them a lot of time.

Martin ignored her question about the cane. "Okay, well, just in case, I brought you some batteries for your lantern. You really shouldn't be using candles. Oh, and also," Martin held up the bag, "I have some some extra cat food for Bob and Doris in here."

Clutching her shawl in one hand, she took the bag from Martin, oblivious to the rain splattering against her slippers and the hem of her dress. "Are you sure you and your friend won't come inside? I made some tea and put it in a Thermos, I'd be happy to share."

"No, thanks, we're going to head back. I'll come over tomorrow and stack some wood for you, if we don't have power by then."

"That sounds fine. You boys be safe out there, this is a bad one." She nodded at both of them and then closed the door. Martin turned toward Danny, placing his hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Okay, good deed done. Let's head back."

Danny nodded and turned, taking a step back out into the storm and noticing that the wind had picked up, the rain lashing harder against his slicker. Moving to his right, he expected Martin to go out ahead of him and lead the way back, but then he noticed that Martin's hand was still on his shoulder. Turning to Martin, Danny saw a rueful expression on his face.

"Do you mind?"

It took Danny a second to realize what Martin was asking. "You okay?" he asked, his heart sinking at the thought that Martin was in pain.

Martin shrugged. "Some Advil and an ice pack will fix me up. I just don't think I'll be too steady on the walk back, so if I can lean on you..." He let the sentence trail out, still with that half-humorous, half-self conscious smile that Danny recognized.

Danny straightened his shoulders and lifted his flashlight, shining it on the muddy path in front of them. "No problem," he said. "Just hang on to me, I'll get us home."

Halfway back to the house, Martin's limp became so prominent that Danny stopped their progress long enough to slide his arm around Martin's waist. Martin didn't say anything, just lowered his head against the wind and leaned into Danny, his implicit trust so immediate that Danny felt his heart lurch. They were hindered by more storm debris, both on the ground and coming at them from above and by the time they reached the back door, Danny felt battered, but the cessation of the wind howling in his ears more than made up for the aches and pains.

They stripped off the rain gear in the mudroom, Danny unclasping the braces holding up the waterproof pants that had protected Martin's jeans. Martin's forehead was creased in pain, but he managed a grateful smile as Danny silently helped him step out of the gear.

"It's usually not this bad," Martin said. He and Danny were walking back into the kitchen, and Danny couldn't help noticing that Martin needed to brace himself against the wall of the hallway as they went. Once they got to the kitchen, Martin immediately sat down on one of the bar stools, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to look around for Danny. "I've walked that path a hundred times and never had a problem."

"Oh, really, you've walked that path?" Danny opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. He found two bottles of water and pulled them out, handing one to Martin. "In the middle of the night during what I'd call a close cousin to a hurricane? You, my friend, really have gone country."

"Yeah, okay," Martin sighed, "maybe not under these exact circumstances." He looked around, then lowered one leg to the floor, wincing as his foot hit the carpet. "Excuse me a sec, I need to go find that Advil."

Danny came around the counter. "Tell me where it is, I'll get it."

Martin hesitated, then shrugged. "Master bedroom is through that door on the other side of the living room, the bathroom's straight ahead. The bottle should be sitting on the counter."

It seemed natural to pat Martin on the shoulder as Danny passed him on the way to the bedroom. Something about this night still had its grip on Danny, something that made casual yet intimate gestures seem appropriate. He tried not to look around too much as he crossed through Martin's bedroom to the master bath beyond, but he did get an impression that, like the rest of the house, it was sparsely but expensively furnished. There were framed pictures on the table next to the bed, mostly of people he didn't know, but he did recognize one, set a little apart from the others, because he used to have one just like it. It was a photo of the old team, the kind that the Bureau made them take every year. This was one of the later ones, so it included Elena, and Danny couldn't stop himself from picking it up after he'd retrieved the pill bottle from the bathroom.

He remembered that day. They'd spent the morning chasing down leads on a missing psychiatrist and the last thing they'd wanted to do was assemble for another one of those stilted, posed portraits that got hung in some rarely used corridor or conference room. They were arranged to the photographer's satisfaction, with Danny and Martin at opposite ends of the line, and they all looked artificially happy.

Everyone except Danny, whose smile had been sincere, whose life had been coming together in ways he'd never imagined. Past Vivian, on the other side of Sam, Elena had smiled for the camera, but when the photographer had paused, she'd looked at Danny and crossed her eyes, making him laugh.

Next to her, bracketing the team, was Martin. Danny had long ago discarded his own copy of this photo, and up until the time he'd released it from its frame and tossed it away, his eye had always been drawn to Elena. But now he looked at Martin, whose gaze seemed to be aimed not at the camera, but somewhere beyond, at something only he could see. His smile was the most forced of all, not even a hint of that dimple that charmed witnesses and co-workers alike.

"Hey, you fall asleep in here?"

Danny jumped and turned around to see Martin leaning in the doorway, cane in hand. He held up the framed picture so that Martin could see it.

"I saw this and had to take a closer look."

Martin joined him, taking the picture and tilting it toward the light as Clancy jumped onto the bed and stretched out with a contented grunt. "Yeah, it's been there so long, I don't even see it any more."

"Do you miss it?"

Martin's mouth twisted, then relaxed into a wistful smile. "Sometimes. I don't miss the hours or the bad cases, but I miss the people."

"You keep in touch with any of them?"

"I talk to Viv every couple of months, that's about it." He placed the frame back on the table. "You?"

"Nope. Although I hear things. Sam had another kid, right?"

"Yeah, Finn has a little sister now. Daisy, Daphne—I don't know, something like that."

"Nice." A comfortable silence fell between them, and Danny noticed that Martin didn't seem anxious to move away. They were so close that their shoulders were touching, and for some reason, that gave Danny courage to ask the next question.

"You weren't happy in that picture, I can see that now. Why not? What was going on with you?"

Martin looked up, startled. "I—yeah, I guess I wasn't, it wasn't a great time in my life."

Danny frowned at him, trying to recall what could've been going on. "Was it Kim?"

Martin made a dismissive gesture with his free hand. "No, Kim was just a symptom. Being with her—and the mistakes I made because of her—that was all just an excuse not to think."

"Think about what?" Danny whispered.

Martin looked at him and the pain Danny saw in those blue eyes, though quickly masked, was heartbreaking.

"Oldest story in the book," Martin said. "I was in love with someone who didn't feel the same way."

*****

Oh, he shouldn't have said it. He should've made something up, said anything but the truth, but he was tired and hurting and here was Danny Taylor standing so close to him that he could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the faint remnants of cologne on his skin.

But now it was out there, and the startled look on Danny's face told Martin that he was going to get questioned about it. He didn't really mind—he could still make up someone if he had to, but he knew that Danny was mentally reviewing everyone he and Martin knew five years ago.

"I—I had no idea." Danny sat down on the bed, his reaction a little more intense than Martin had anticipated. "You should've told me, maybe I could've—"

"Could've what?" Martin said with a little laugh. "Trust me, there wasn't anything anyone could've done. The person that I—that I cared about was in love with someone else. In fact, they eventually got married. I wasn't even in the game."

"Wow." Danny looked up at Martin, a frown between his eyes. "Martin, I'm sorry. I guess I was so wrapped up with my own life toward the end, I never knew."

"Don't worry about it," Martin said lightly. He punched Danny on the shoulder, "C'mon, let's call it a night. I'm going to go reset the time on the generator, it'll come back on at six." He looked at his watch. "Which is about four hours from now."

"Right." Danny stood up and walked with Martin into the kitchen. They exchanged good nights and Danny went into the guest room, leaving Martin to lock up. The storm was still going strong and all around him, Martin could hear the creaks and groans of his house as it shook in the wind. Of more concern were the ominous snaps and the dull, thudding sound of debris hitting the house. The property was going to be a mess when all this was over; it'd probably take him a month of weekends just to clear it all out.

The power shut down, he used a battery-powered lamp to see his way back into the kitchen, where he downed a couple of Advil. After one last glance at the rain obscuring the view of the living room windows, he climbed into bed, Clancy claiming his usual spot at Martin's side. This wasn't a very cold storm, so he wasn't worried about the temperature in the house getting too uncomfortable. Right now, the only thing making him uncomfortable was his own lapse in judgment.

It was the last thing he should've said. Tomorrow, maybe the next day, Danny was going to go out of his life again, probably forever, and re-opening old wounds served no purpose, especially since Danny had some added some scars of his own in the past five years. On the plus side, Danny had probably already forgotten all about Martin's confession and by breakfast, the whole thing would be old news.

Between the cracking sounds outside and his own internal dialogue, Martin found it difficult to fall asleep. He turned one way and then another, the ache in his hip fading but other pains making themselves known. He'd known the walk was going to be rough, but also knew he'd never have been able to rest until he knew Mrs. C was okay.

He was finally dozing off when something hit the house, something substantial. He was up in an instant, reaching for his cane as Clancy jumped off the bed. Grabbing his flashlight, he hurried into the living room, unsurprised when Danny met him there, carrying his own flashlight.

"That sounded bad," Danny said.

"Yeah, I know. I think a tree hit the garage. I'm going to go check it out."

"Need some help?"

Martin hesitated. If there was damage to the house, there wasn't much he could do about it, so there really wasn't any need for Danny to lose any sleep, but Martin couldn't say no.

"Probably not, " he said, "but I'd appreciate the company. Grab your shoes and a jacket and we'll meet back here."

They entered the garage from the kitchen, Clancy running out in front of them before Martin could stop him. He turned on the generator and as soon as it chugged into life, Danny flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the space.

"I don't see anything," Danny said.

"Me either." In fact, everything looked perfectly normal—he was standing next to the truck, and he could see his car and the boat beyond. The garage door seemed to be intact, but he could hear something banging against its aluminum surface. "Hit the garage door opener, I'll take a quick look outside."

Before the door was even halfway up, the force of the storm swept inside the garage, swirling leaves and debris around Martin's legs. Clancy shot past them and out into the night but Martin wasn't concerned, knowing the dog was just taking advantage of the unusual break in routine. He waited by the bed of the pickup until the door was completely up, then edged as close as he could to the front of the garage, just far enough to be able to get a good look at the surrounding area without getting soaked.

"See anything?"

Martin jumped. He hadn't noticed Danny coming up beside him and was startled to see him so close.

"Not from here. See over there, there's a huge branch hitting the garage door but I think it's still attached to the tree, so I'll have to cut it back tomorrow. I don't know though, maybe I'd better throw on some real clothes and take a closer look."

"Now, let me explain to you why that is a very bad idea."

Martin rolled his eyes as he turned to Danny with a knowing grin. "Okay, Mister Know-it-all, tell me why."

"First, big storm. Really big storm. Second, it's three in the morning and third, refer to my first and second points. Seriously, unless the house is falling down—hell, even if it is—there's nothing we can do about it right this minute." He nudged Martin with his elbow. "Now, are you going to admit that I'm right? Or are you just going to argue for old time's sake?"

"Hey, it's tempting. I seem to remember enjoying pointing out the many, many times you were wrong, but yeah, even if I find some damage tonight, there's no guarantee there won't be more if this storm doesn't calm down soon."

"See? Admitting I'm right wasn't so hard, was it?" He lifted his hand to the back of Martin's head and gave it a gentle shove. "So let's head back in and see if there's any leftover pasta."

Martin clapped Danny on the shoulder, steering him toward the door. "I think I could manage to scrape up a bowl or two—oh, hang on a minute." He turned back to peer out into the storm. "Clancy? Hey, Clancy, c'mon boy, we're going inside now. Clancy!"

It was unusual for Clancy to not obey Martin's call, but Martin put it down to the noise of the storm. He walked closer to the garage's edge and tried again.

"Hey, Clancy! C'mon boy, c'mon, let's go!"

Danny had gone on ahead, but came back to Martin's side. "Everything okay?"

"I'm not sure, Clancy isn't—wait—do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That sound, like a—oh, no. Oh, God."

Once Martin recognized what he was hearing, he threw aside his cane and started to run. The storm hit him like a slap in the face, instantly drenching the nylon fabric of the thin jacket he'd thrown on earlier and driving rain into his eyes. He knew Danny was yelling after him but it didn't matter—the sound he'd heard was the whimpering cry of a wounded animal.

He skidded to a stop halfway down the driveway, swiping at the water in his eyes with the back of his hand as he scanned the area. He'd put his flashlight aside when the generator turned on, but the motion sensors had activated, allowing him a clear view of the area surrounding the garage.

"What are you looking for?"

Martin whirled to see Danny standing in the rain beside him, his hand shielding his eyes.

"Clancy," Martin said, raising his voice to be heard above the roar of the wind. "I think something's wrong."

As he looked past Danny, Martin saw something out of place only a few yards away in one of the dormant flower bed next to the driveway. There was a split second for his mind to register what he was looking at, then he was moving, falling to his knees in the mud beside an injured Clancy, who managed to thump his tail to acknowledge Martin's presence, but otherwise didn't move.

"Aw, Clance," Martin whispered, "what happened?"

As gently as he could, he ran his hands over Clancy's body, almost immediately finding a warm, sticky spot on the dog's abdomen. Clancy whimpered softly, his muscles bunching beneath his sodden coat.

"I know, I know, boy, it's okay, you're gonna be okay." Martin scratched the tuft of fur at Clancy's muzzle, gratified when Clancy made a feeble attempt to lick his fingers.

"What can I do?" It was Danny, kneeling in the dirt beside him, oblivious to the rain running down his face and plastering his dark hair to his head, centering Martin with his hand on Martin's back.

Martin swallowed as he swiped his forearm over his face. "We're going to have to move him, but I'm afraid to pick him up." He sat back on one leg, thinking fast. "Go get a blanket off one of the beds, we'll wrap him in that, try and make it easier on him."

"Got it."

Danny sped away and Martin leaned forward, using his body to try and shield Clancy from the rain. "Hang in there, Clance, we're going to get you fixed up."

In response to Martin's voice, Clancy feebly struggled to get his forelegs beneath him, but it was too hard and he settled back down in the mud with another heart-wrenching whimper. Martin stroked his head and neck, whispering comforting nonsense, praying that Danny would hurry.

In a spray of water and mud, Danny was back, sliding into the dirt on Clancy's other side. He handed Martin the blanket he'd brought, helping him unfold it and cover Clancy.

"Okay," Danny panted, "now what?"

"I'm going to need you to open the passenger side door of the truck so I can get in with him."

"Got it. We taking him to the vet?"

"Yeah, we're going to have to do a scoop and roll, I think this is bad. The keys to the truck and my phone are on the kitchen counter. And, Danny," Martin clasped Danny's wrist, "you're going to have to drive."

Danny put his hand over Martin's. "No problem. Let's go."

*****

If the drive home from the dinner had been difficult, the drive back out was a nightmare. Martin, cradling forty-five pounds of terrified, injured Labrador as tightly as he dared, didn't say a word except to give directions, knowing that Danny needed every ounce of concentration to steer the truck through the debris field the road had become. It was a white-knuckle drive until they hit the intersection that hooked up to the state road, and once they were on smoother pavement, Danny hit the gas. The closest town to Martin's house was small, barely qualifying for a stoplight, but Martin told him knew there was a vet with a twenty-four-hour emergency service. Giving directions with a remarkably steady a voice under the circumstances, Martin held on to Clancy and guided Danny in.

By the time Danny pulled the truck into the deserted parking lot, the storm was finally showing signs of slowing down. Martin waited as Danny turned off the ignition and got out of the truck, coming around the hood to open the passenger door and help Martin down. Once Martin was on his feet, Danny ran ahead and opened the clinic door so that Martin could carry Clancy inside.

There was no one at the front desk, but before Martin could ask Danny to ring the bell on the counter, Danny busted through the low swinging doors separating the waiting room from the back of the clinic.

"Hello?" Danny yelled. "Hey, we need some help out here! Hello?"

Almost immediately, a door behind the counter opened and a man in blue scrubs came through, obviously angry as he walked up to Danny.

"Hey, you can't just come barging in here—"

"Listen, I'm sorry." Danny raised his hand, pointing toward Martin and Clancy. "But we have an emergency. My friend's dog—Clancy—he got hurt in the storm, he's bleeding—"

"Bring him in here." The doctor brushed past Danny and pushed aside the divider so that Martin could follow him to an examination room.

"Put him down on the table. What happened?"

"I don't know." Martin leaned over the table as the vet helped him place Clancy on its metal surface. "He ran out into the storm—I think something hit him."

"Okay. Show me where."

Keeping one hand on Clancy's head, Martin gently peeled the blanket away. "Somewhere over here, near his belly."

From where Danny stood at the end of the table, he could see that Martin's hands were trembling. As Martin and the vet examined Clancy's wound, he took a couple of steps until he was at Martin's side, rewarded with a sideways glance that acknowledged his silent support. When the vet was joined by an assistant, he asked Martin and Danny to step outside and sensing Martin's reluctance, Danny put his hand on his arm and guided him back into the waiting area.

Martin didn't take a seat, instead limping to the window, scrubbing his hands over his face. Danny watched him for a few moments, overtaken by a strong sense of déjà vu. They'd been here before, the two of them, not these circumstances exactly, but one of them beating themselves up over something they couldn't control. And just as familiar as this scene was the strong urge to give Martin comfort, to ease the burden from those shoulders, to be the one person Martin could lean on in tough times.

"Martin," Danny said, his voice hushed, "you know this wasn't your fault."

"I know," Martin muttered. "In my head, I know. But if I hadn't decided to check on the house, if I hadn't let him run out—"

"Hey, listen, how many times have you let Clancy run outside in a storm?"

Martin shrugged, his eyes still on the parking lot. "Never been an issue before tonight."

"Exactly. It was an accident, nothing more. And you know what? He's going to be okay. We got him here, and he's going to be okay."

Planting his fists on his hips, Martin lowered his head. "Yeah, I know that, too." He turned and smiled at Danny, not much of a smile, but Danny could tell it was genuine. "Thanks, man. You really didn't sign on for this tonight, did you?"

Danny placed his hand on Martin's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Nothing ever goes easy for us, does it? Not even after five years."

Martin looked back at him with eyes unexpectedly filled with such bitter sadness that Danny reacted instinctively, reeling Martin into his arms and holding him close. Martin's arms went around him as he briefly rested his forehead on Danny's shoulder, his body taut.

"Hey, hey," Danny soothed, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay." He rubbed circles on Martin's back, encouraging tight muscles to relax.

"Yeah." Martin pulled out of the embrace and took a step away, eyes on the floor. "Sorry about that, it's just—it's been a long night, I'm worried about Clance."

"No, I get it, you don't have to—"

"We left it too long, Danny."

The words, so softly spoken, so full of self-reproach, cut straight to Danny's heart. He was sure he knew what Martin was referring to, and it exactly echoed his own feelings as he nodded, eager to take the blame for the long years of silence between them.

"I know," Danny said, "it was my fault. I shouldn't have let so much time pass without contacting you."

"It wasn't your fault, not at all. It was my choice." Martin walked to the far side of the waiting area, putting distance between them to stare at a picture of kittens hanging on the wall. Danny recognized the defensive maneuver, but he was more puzzled by Martin's definitive statement—he'd made it sound as though he'd made a conscious decision to stay away from Danny after the team was dissolved.

"Your choice? To do what?"

Martin turned away from his contemplation of the picture, and Danny could tell that he was searching for a way to carefully word whatever he had to say so that Danny wouldn't be—wouldn't be what? Angry? Hurt? What could Martin possibly have to say after all this time that could make Danny feel anything other than what he'd always felt about Martin, even if he'd yet to define what that was?

"To move on with my life, to—to cut ties with the past."

"Including me, obviously." Danny took a step toward Martin, convinced that Martin was edging around the truth. "Or was it especially me?"

It was a shot in the dark, but it hit home. Martin's eyes widened just a bit, just enough to tell Danny that Martin's decision all those years ago had been a very personal one where Danny was concerned.

"What did I do?" Danny pressed. "Did I tick you off? Say something to hurt your feelings? Listen, whatever it was, I apologize. I just don't remember—what did I miss?"

"No, no," Martin waved his hand, "nothing like that. Look, it all happened a long time ago, right? It doesn't matter anymore."

"I think it does." Danny moved to stand directly in front of Martin, forcing eye contact. He didn't know why it was so important to find out why Martin wanted to leave Danny out of his life five years ago, but it was, and if nothing else, this conversation was serving to distract Martin from what was going on in the examination room.

"Listen, I can't tell you how great this has been, seeing you again. It's just made me realize how much I've missed you, that's all."

"Close, Martin, and maybe even the truth." Danny shook his head. He knew there was more to this than Martin was letting on, and Martin's last comment had almost been said in a tone of panic. "This isn't the time, I know, not until we hear that Clancy's okay. But this conversation isn't over."

Martin sighed. "Damn it, Danny, some things never change. You get an idea in your head—"

He stopped when the door to the examination room opened. The vet—Dr. Manning, according to the badge on his scrubs—approached them, wiping his hands on a paper towel, a reassuring smile on his face.

"How is he, doc?" Martin asked.

"He's going to be fine. Looks like a tree limb caught him across the abdomen, there was some wooden debris in the wound that was kind of nasty. But no internal organs were damaged and all of his vitals are good. We're going to stitch him up here in a few minutes, I just wanted to give you an update."

All the tension drained out of Martin as he turned to Danny. "He's going to be okay," he repeated.

Danny grinned back at him. "Told you it'd be all right," he said, then laughed when Martin rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to come back and see him before we start? We'll take him back to recovery after that, you won't be allowed back there for a few hours at least."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Martin started following the doctor back to the examination room but stopped when he realized that Danny wasn't following. "You coming?"

"Are you sure it's okay?" Danny asked. He'd gladly go with Martin but didn't want to intrude.

Martin waved him forward. "Of course it is, c'mon."

It was evident as soon as they walked in the room that Clancy was feeling better. He greeted them with a wagging tail, even though he'd been secured to the table so that he wouldn't cause himself any further injury. Danny hung back as Martin and Clancy spent some time together, only approaching the table when Martin reached out and clamped his fingers around Danny's wrist, tugging him closer. They stayed with Clancy until they were kicked out, the vet informing them that he'd decided that Clancy would need to stay at the hospital for observation for the rest of the day, but Martin could take him home before the office closed at six that afternoon.

As they stepped outside the veterinary clinic, it was evident that the storm had finally passed. Now there was only a soft, cool breeze stirring the trees, and even a hint of dawn peeking beneath the clouds crowding the eastern horizon. Danny held out the truck keys to Martin but Martin shook him off, silently climbing into the passenger seat. Danny got in beside him and put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it.

"Where to?"

"What? Oh, uh, I don't know. Home, I guess."

"How about some coffee for the road?"

Martin hesitated, then nodded. "Sounds good. There's a coffee shop a couple of blocks away, we can get it to go."

They got coffee—and a couple of breakfast sandwiches at Danny's insistence, since he didn't want Martin worrying about feeding him any time soon—and drove back to Martin's house, the brightening sky revealing the storm damage along the way. The roads were empty and Danny remembered enough to make the drive without Martin's direction, which was for the best, since Martin had subsided into silence once more. Danny didn't mind—he knew that not only was Martin concerned about Clancy, but concluding the conversation they'd started in the waiting room.

It wasn't that Danny wanted to cause Martin any pain, in fact it was just the opposite. He wanted to find the source of whatever it was that Martin had run from five years ago, and knowing he was a part of that pain made it Danny's business to try and help. But there was more to it, of that, Danny was sure, more to it for both of them. He knew that the years they'd spent apart should've weakened the bond between them, but since running into Martin at the dinner, Danny felt as though he could finally begin to raise his head above the misery his life had become. Maybe if they could exorcise the past together, they could start over, building on the small amount of time they'd shared this weekend and make something altogether new.

By the time they rolled into to the garage, Martin had perked up and was talking to Danny again, mostly about the destruction he expected to find on his property. They ate their makeshift breakfast at the kitchen island, and when Martin told Danny he had no intention of trying to get any sleep, Danny nodded. It was full morning now, and Danny knew they'd both passed that point of exhaustion where sleep on demand was impossible. Sleep would come eventually, but there was still enough adrenaline and body clock issues to keep them going for a while—they'd been through this too many times before not to recognize the signs.

"And whenever you're ready," Martin said, "I'll run you back up to the airport. Or the train station, whatever works for you."

The offer took Danny by surprise, though he knew it shouldn't have. With the storm cleared out, transportation would be opening up all along the coast, and if he was lucky, he could be back in Brooklyn by nightfall.

_But he didn't want to go_.

He didn't want to leave until Clancy was home and comfortable in his own bed, he didn't want to leave this house by the lake that he'd yet to explore—he didn't want to leave Martin and go back to a life of emptiness, not when there was warmth and light and life and a growing feeling of _rightness_ every time he looked into Martin's eyes.

"Let's see how it goes," he said with a noncommittal shrug. "I'm going to go take a shower, then you can show me around and we'll start taking inventory of the damage."

If Martin was startled by Danny's easy insinuation into his Saturday plans, his bright smile didn't reveal it. "Great! I'll start some fresh coffee and we'll meet back up here and get started."

It wasn't until Danny was out of the shower and getting dressed that he felt that telltale tickle in the back of his mind, the one that told him he was close to solving a puzzle. Whether it was the whereabouts of a missing person or the sure knowledge that a client was lying, it was something he couldn't ignore—and this time it told him he was close to figuring out the mystery of Martin's decision to turn his back on Danny and their friendship five years ago.

It was something Martin had said last night that was really confusing Danny, something about falling in love with someone who didn't love him back, who married someone—

No.

Danny sat down hard on the bed, one Nike dangling from his fingers. No, no, it couldn't be. That couldn't be it, Danny would've known, he would've been able to tell—right? This was Martin, his friend, his partner, the guy he'd gone with to hell and back. The years played over in his head, quick flashes of the life they'd shared, the work they'd done, the hard-won victories, the devastating failures. That work had taken a terrible toll on both of them, but toward the end, as their friendship faded in light of Danny's infatuation with Elena, Danny had let Martin go. And in doing so, he'd lost so much more than he'd ever known.

A great anger stirred inside Danny, but just who or what he was angry at, he wasn't sure. He yanked on his shoe and tied the laces so quickly he knotted them, muttering curse words as he unwound the knot and retied them. Dressed in the only extra clothes he'd brought, Levi's and a thin, brown wool sweater, he grabbed his leather jacket and trotted out into the living room, determined to face Martin and bring everything into the open.

The room was deserted, and a quick glance into the kitchen revealed a steaming carafe of coffee, but no Martin. Danny tossed his jacket on the couch and put his hands on his hips, his gaze swinging from side to side as he considered his next move.

It was those few extra moments of solitude that Danny needed to calm down, and as his heart resumed its normal rhythm, he tried to look at the situation differently. If Martin had been in love with him—the idea made Danny's stomach tighten—there were a thousand reasons he'd never said or done anything about it, and only one of them having to do with Elena.

But given Danny's actions at the time, that was certainly reason enough.

Danny wandered into the kitchen and poured out two mugs of coffee. Now he wasn't so sure he wanted to confront Martin—he'd barely touched on his own feelings, if what he thought was true. As he lifted his mug to his lips, he paused, his mind skittering away from the ramifications of letting himself feel anything for Martin other than friendship. That's where he knew his anger came from, using it to fuel his desperate need to deflect from the truth that had he known that Martin loved him, Danny's life would've taken an entirely different path.

There never would have been a life with Elena, if Danny had been offered a life with Martin first.

The realization drove Danny to the nearest kitchen stool, his knees weak with shock. How could he have missed that? How could he have been so blind to his own emotions? He and Martin had always had a complicated relationship, at the very beginning equal parts adversarial and attraction that swiftly turned into a solid working partnership. Maybe friendship came last, stronger for the time it took them to get there, but everything changed when Martin was shot.

Staring down into his coffee cup, Danny admitted that was it, that was where it all became clear, but he'd been too blind and stubborn to admit it. His whole world had been blown apart that horrific night, only coming back into focus when he knew Martin was going to survive. If only Danny had seized the moment to define those emotions of helplessness and loss into what they really were instead of running away from them, from Martin.

But Martin—stoic, I-can-handle-this-myself Martin Fitzgerald—had shut Danny out, and it was only after they'd spent long, dark nights together in the midst of Martin's addiction that they'd started to regain the ground they'd lost.

Yet nothing was ever the same, and any faint stirrings that there was something more than friendship were washed away by the arrival of Elena Delgado, Martin's opposite in every way. That set Danny on a path that Martin could not follow, and now, five years later, with no Elena to cloud his vision and confuse his heart, Danny was faced with the reality that he'd just been handed that most precious of gifts—a second chance.

He didn't know how to proceed, but then Danny had never needed a road map. He only knew that he had to grab this second chance with both hands, no matter where it might take him. Martin had loved him once, and that was no promise that he still felt—or could ever feel—that same way again.

Anger now dissolved into a breathless exhilaration, Danny was impatient for Martin to rejoin him in the kitchen. Time with Martin was precious now, and Danny needed every moment they had left, he needed to see every expression on Martin's face, hear every word, do anything he could to learn if there was even the tiniest chance that a future together was possible.

Danny had just poured out the cold coffee and refilled both mugs when Martin came out of his bedroom. Like Danny, he was dressed in jeans and trainers, but as he approached the kitchen, he was just pulling on a dark blue, long-sleeved t-shirt, head and tousled hair appearing as he yanked the fabric down over his flat abdomen.

"Thank God, coffee," he said as Danny held out a cup. "Sorry it took so long, my hip really stiffened up and the hot water felt good."

"No problem." Danny blew on the surface of his coffee, then took a sip. "So what's the plan?"

Martin looked at his watch. "Let's take a walk around the property and figure out what we're dealing with. Then I'd better check on Mrs. C—"

"Hold on, hold on, wait a minute. You're not planning on going over there today, are you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Why? What about your hip? It's bothering you, right?"

Martin frowned. "Sure, but there's not a lot I can do about it. She won't be up for a couple more hours, though."

"Tell you what." Danny set his cup aside and rose to his feet. "Let's see how you're feeling then, and if you're not up to it, I'll walk over there myself."

"Danny, I'm not going to ask you to do that."

Danny spread his hands wide, giving Martin his best innocent look. "Who's asking? There's probably a million things you want to do around here anyway, so if that's something you really think needs to be done, a nice city boy like me should be able to manage delivering some cat food and stacking some wood. Okay?"

As soon as he saw the hint of a crease in Martin's cheek, Danny knew he'd won. More importantly, it'd bought him a lot more time with Martin, time that didn't need explanation. And by the time the subject of airports and trains and leaving came up, Danny would have figured out another excuse to stay.

*****

Martin was confused. Happy, but confused. The confusion he understood—it was almost eight-thirty at night, a medicated and bandaged Clancy was snoring peacefully in his big bed by the fireplace, and Danny Taylor was slumped into the deepest part of Martin's couch, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted into a pillow, fast asleep.

This was not a scenario he'd ever envisioned.

The happy part was harder to explain. Oh, he knew he was glad that Danny was there, even though glad hardly began to describe the multitude of emotions that Martin felt as he watched Danny sleep. And on the surface, sure, it was great to have a buddy around the house today, helping him pile up storm debris and take pictures of the damage they'd found on and around Martin's house. Danny had climbed ladders and hauled fallen tree limbs, had helped Martin get Clancy home and, as promised, had checked on Mrs. C and found that all was well with her world since the power had returned mid-morning, just in time for Judge Judy.

It was all so natural, domestic even, as though spending a Saturday doing chores around the house was something they'd done together for years. Even Danny snoring into the couch cushion felt normal, the ease with which he'd settled into Martin's world giving Martin the illusion that this was the way his life was supposed to be.

Or should've been.

Getting up from his chair as quietly as he could, Martin reached for his cane and walked into the kitchen, turning off the TV and lights as he went until only the gas fireplace remained on. Clancy had been carefully—and watchfully—walked and was down for the night, so Martin knew the next thing he needed to do was wake Danny and send him to bed.

Instead, he found himself looking down on Danny as he slept, the flames from the fire sending shadows and light dancing across the part of Danny's face that was visible. His hair was spiked up on one side and the small frown between his eyes had disappeared, taking away the years and showing Martin a vulnerable, relaxed Danny instead of the tired, defeated man Martin had first seen at the dinner the night before.

He was still confused about why Danny was still here. Travel along the eastern seaboard was rapidly returning to normal and Martin knew Danny had every opportunity to leave Virginia, yet each time Martin made an offer to help Danny get home, Danny found something to do, often citing Martin's aching hip as a reason to stick around and help. By lunchtime, Martin had given up, too afraid that Danny would think he was trying to get rid of him when in fact, Martin was trying to figure out a reason to invite Danny back as soon as possible.

It shouldn't have been an issue—old friends recently reunited could easily make future plans to see each other, right? Yet Martin wasn't sure it was a great idea, since he'd be inviting Danny under false pretenses—he was still in love with Danny, and that was a far cry from someone just trying to reignite an old friendship.

He was so lost in thought he didn't notice that Danny was watching him until Danny moved, reaching out with his hand and hooking his little finger around Martin's. Martin was startled by the gesture, curling his finger automatically and securing their hands together.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Martin whispered, "why don't you head on to bed?"

"What time is it?" Danny's voice was equally hushed.

"I don't know, about nine, I guess."

Danny closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the cushion, though he retained his hold on Martin. "Jesus, it's only nine? Couple of old men, that's what we are. Can't stay up late any more."

"Yeah, and not getting any sleep last night has nothing to do with it." Martin disentangled their fingers and held out his hand. "C'mon, old man, let me give you a hand up."

Danny took Martin's hand and Martin let Danny get his feet solidly beneath him before giving it a tug. Danny stood up but for some reason, he over-balanced and leaned into Martin, who took a step back and got tangled with his cane. He stumbled but Danny was right there, throwing his arm around Martin and drawing him close.

"You okay?" Danny asked.

Martin didn't answer. He couldn't. Danny's arm was tight around his waist, his other hand coming up to clasp Martin's arm just above the elbow, effectively encircling Martin in a strong, steadying embrace. And Danny's face—Danny's mouth—was so close, so damn close, that whatever Martin thought he was going to say was lost. All he could do was stare into Danny's brown eyes, knowing he was revealing his heart, praying Danny wouldn't be able to read his expression in the dim light.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm good," Martin stuttered.

"Are you sure?" Danny's voice, was soft, his words a teasing admonition.

Martin's defenses—never very strong around Danny to begin with—were disintegrating beneath the heat in Danny's gaze. Danny was warm everywhere they connected, his arm around Martin's waist, his hand resting on Martin's upper arm—the warmth flowed beneath Martin's skin and left him feeling flushed and chilled at the same time. Danny's eyes never left his and Martin found he couldn't look away, because he knew that when this ended, when Danny released him and went to bed, Martin would relive this moment and hold on to it for the rest of his life.

Danny's hand on Martin's arm was shifting, curving beneath Martin's elbow, fingers sliding over the thin fabric of Martin's t-shirt.

"Martin?" Danny's mouth turned up at the corner. "Still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Martin whispered, "I should—"

Danny edged closer. "You should what?"

"Danny—"

"Martin. Listen to me, listen to what I have to say. I have this feeling that I'm about to do something stupid and I really need to tell you about it first."

"Tell me first?" Caught by the gleam of firelight reflected in Danny's eyes, all thoughts of moving away fled from Martin's mind. Danny's voice was low, beguiling, a hint of tension behind the teasing. "Is that a good idea? Maybe I'll try and talk you out of it."

Danny laughed, almost too softly for Martin to hear. "Okay, hot shot, would you try and talk me out of kissing you?"

Martin's breath left him on a silent hiss. Danny was a natural flirt, something that used to aggravate Martin as much as it fascinated him, but there was nothing flirtatious about Danny's challenge. Staring at Danny, Martin slowly moved his head from side to side.

"I think," he paused to lick his bottom lip, "I think it might not be the stupidest idea you've ever had."

Danny's eyebrows rose as he reached down and took Martin's cane out of his hand, tossing it aside. "Not a ringing endorsement, but I'll take it."

"I have another idea." Martin lifted his free hand and cupped Danny's jaw. "How about taking this instead?"

_Just a kiss, it's only a kiss, don't stop, don't_ —Martin pressed his mouth to Danny's. He meant it to be only a touch, maybe even a game, ready to protect his heart if Danny laughed and pushed him away. But a sigh from Danny, the brush of Danny's knuckles against his jaw, and Martin's eyes fell shut. This was no game, this wasn't a test, this was Danny Taylor's mouth opening beneath his own, and Danny Taylor's arms pulling him close until their bodies were flush against each other.

The kiss ended when Martin turned his head away and down. He wanted to take a moment to think, to gather himself before facing whatever Danny had in store for him. Since Danny had first challenged Martin about a kiss, Martin wasn't afraid of rejection—in fact, just the opposite. If this is was they both wanted, then two lives would change tonight, a blindsiding, earth-shattering change that Martin already knew he was ready to accept.

With that thought in his mind, he took a deep breath and looked up into Danny's eyes. What he saw there was what he expected, what his entire heart was now convinced had been waiting for him all these years. Danny's eyes were bright and warm, his hand still on Martin's cheek, cupping it now, just the tips of his fingers brushing Martin's ear.

"So," Martin murmured, "I, uh, I thought that went pretty well. How about you?"

Danny outright laughed at that, though he didn't relinquish his hold on Martin as he rocked back. "I'm thinking we did a pretty good job, actually. Want to try again, make sure we got it right?"

Martin frowned, having not thought beyond the last kiss to even wonder about looking forward to another. The idea sent a shiver up his spine—he could do this _again_ —hell, he could probably do it all night, the way Danny was looking at him.

But what about beyond tonight? Tomorrow would still come, but what new truth would it bring?

"I do," he admitted. "But, Danny, here's the thing."

"Oh, no." Danny leaned his forehead against Martin's. "Don't do this to me."

"No, listen, okay? You're going home tomorrow—"

"Or Monday. Monday's good."

Martin couldn't hold back the smile that appeared when he recognized the stubborn inflection in Danny's voice. That, more than anything, reminded Martin of why he'd fallen in love with Danny so many years ago. "Yeah, or Monday. But listen to me. As long as we're just standing around here chatting, I may as well tell you the truth."

Martin kept his tone light, knowing that Danny was reading him like any good profiler, trying to figure out if Martin was being straight with him or preparing him for something he didn't want to hear.

"Yeah, okay, I'll bite. What do you need to tell me?"

Martin smoothed a wrinkle at the shoulder of Danny's sweater. "When I told you I'd fallen in love with someone all those years ago—"

"It was me," Danny finished for him. "I know."

Martin took a reflexive step back, but Danny didn't cede any ground, taking that step with him and keeping Martin in a firm, steadying embrace.

"No," Martin said, "no, you don't. You couldn't. I was careful, I never let it show."

"Hey, hey, relax, I said I know but what I meant to say was that I know _now_. You're right, back then, I had no idea. I swear I just figured it out."

Martin didn't know what to say. It was all happening too fast, so fast that he felt the burn of panic start to flare in the pit of his stomach. "Danny, I'm—I'm so sorry."

Whatever reaction Martin was expecting from Danny, it wasn't more laughter. Danny was shaking his head, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he caught his breath.

"Only you," Danny said softly, "would apologize in this situation."

Martin saw some of the humor in Danny's words, but this wasn't something he could afford to screw up. "Yeah, okay, I'm a little thrown by all this."

"By what?"

"By what? Hell, by you! Why aren't you running out of the house screaming right now? This can't be anything you expected—"

It was just as well that Danny chose that moment to kiss him again, because Martin was pretty good at being his own worst enemy, and finding reasons to convince Danny that this was a very bad idea were all too easy to come up with.

But Danny _was_ kissing him, and kissing him hard, like he meant it, maybe like it meant more to him than expressing affection based on what they used to be to each other. It'd been a while, but Martin could feel passion in Danny's touch, in the stroke of Danny's tongue against his own, in quick, searching touches and a muffled sigh that told Martin that this wasn't just affection Danny was feeling, it was desire. And as much as he was caught off guard by the reality that Danny's fingers were teasing his skin beneath the edges of his t-shirt, he suddenly realized that he had no idea what Danny was actually thinking.

With great reluctance, he shifted away from Danny, putting just enough space between them so that Danny understood that Martin needed to stop. But Danny, being Danny, was undeterred by Martin's move and although he let Martin back off a bit, he kept his hands anchored on Martin's hips, the tips of his fingers lingering just beneath the elastic waistband of Martin's sweatpants.

"Danny," Martin began, then paused. How could he distill all his past fears and, more importantly, any future hopes into a few words? "Okay, straight up, having you here, seeing you again, it's been beyond anything I could ever have hoped for. But that's me, you know? How I felt about you—feel about you—it's what I've learned to live with. Up until two days ago, you'd forgotten I'd existed."

"No," Danny said instantly, "no, that's not true. I never forgot you, Martin."

"Okay, okay, maybe that's the wrong word. But I wasn't any part of your life, even after you and Elena broke up. So how can this be happening?"

Danny stared at him, brown eyes unreadable. "I don't—I don't know, it just is. Being here, being with you, it's like everything just clicked."

"Yeah," Martin said, "I get that. But tomorrow, or Monday, you go back to your life and I go back to mine. And Jesus, Danny, as hard as it's going to be to let you go, it'll be a lot harder if we let this go any further tonight."

Danny looked like he'd been kicked. "So what you're saying is—"

Martin stopped him, placing his palm against Danny's cheek. "What I'm saying is that I'd give anything in the world to make love to you tonight—anything except the life I'm going to have to put back together without you after you go home."

They were difficult words to say, made even more difficult to live with when Danny let him go completely and walked a few steps away to kneel next to Clancy's bed, where Clancy woke up long enough to acknowledge Danny's presence with a flicker of his tail before putting his head back down. Martin watched him, his chest growing tight until he forced himself to look away, positive he'd said the right thing and hating himself for every word.

"Okay."

Martin looked up to see Danny standing in front of him, hands on his hips and a quirk to his mouth that immediately put Martin on alert. He knew that expression, it's the one Danny got when he was convinced of something and hell-bent on getting everyone else to think his way.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, this is the part of the conversation where I talk and you listen, because this is what I've figured out."

"Danny, you don't have to—"

Danny held up one finger, silencing Martin. "First. We haven't seen each other for almost five years but, now tell me if I'm wrong, it's like we've picked up almost exactly where we left off. Tell me it doesn't feel that way."

Shrugging, Martin nodded. "It does, I admit it. That's exactly how I've felt all along." He shifted his feet, noting with dismay that his hip had locked from standing too long without his cane.

"So what does that mean? Wait, I'll tell you what it means, it means that there's more going on here than a couple of former co-workers who run into each other at a party, swap cell phone numbers, and promise to meet for lunch."

"Danny." Martin's smile was apologetic, because the last thing he wanted to do was take anything away from this opportunity to hear Danny share his heart. "Don't lose that thought, but man, I have to sit down. Can you give me a hand?"

If Danny's stricken expression hadn't made Martin feel guilty, the speed with which Danny came to his side and helped him ease down onto the couch certainly did. And damn it, the stupid thing was that maybe he didn't need too much help sitting down—his hip was just stiff, not sore—but God, he'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone _care_.

Maria had cared, of course, but she'd also ignored Martin's bad hip, for the most part. Martin had preferred it that way, instead of having her make a fuss, but he was just selfish enough tonight to want that kind of attention from Danny.

To his relief, Danny sat right down beside him, angling his body so that his knee was perpendicular to Martin's thigh. He propped his elbow on the back of couch and rested his cheek on it, so close that Martin could feel the heat from his body.

"Well, that was embarrassing," Martin muttered.

"No, no, I'm an idiot, I should've been paying attention." He put his hand on Martin's knee. "I'll do better next time."

Martin laughed a little at that, since that was exactly what they'd been discussing before his hip situation interrupted Danny. "Yeah, next time. What about next time?"

"That's the point I was trying to make, okay? You talk as if these two days are all we'll have, and I just don't see it that way."

"You don't?"

"Not at all."

"Then what do you see?"

Danny scooted closer, laying his arm on the back of the couch behind Martin's shoulders. He didn't answer for a few moments, his dark eyelashes hiding his thoughts from Martin until he looked up again and nodded.

"Okay. This is what I see. I see us making plans, working out our schedules, arranging time to be together. I see you calling me in the morning to wake me up and telling me not to shoot any of my clients and then me telling you the same thing about your students." He placed his hand over Martin's, threading their fingers together on Martin's thigh. "I see long weekends in Philadelphia watching baseball and sharing a pizza in Dumbo and me spending Thanksgiving here with you and Clancy."

"Is that—"

"Hold on, I'm not done. Want to know what else I see? I see us screwing up and making assumptions and both of us thinking this is never going to work out. But beyond all that, beyond all the drama and the obstacles and the stupid decisions we'll make in the middle of the night when we're apart, do you know what I see?"

"No," Martin whispered, entranced and terrified by the picture Danny was painting with his words.

But Danny just grinned at him, then leaned forward to press his mouth to Martin's ear.

" _Us_ , Martin. I see us."

Martin closed his eyes, Danny's quiet voice resounding in his head. How could there be a future with Danny? How could Danny want that with Martin after only twenty-four hours of being together? Turning his head, he looked into Danny's eyes, so warm, so close, and Martin desperately wanted to believe in the magic he was weaving with his words.

"One day, Danny. How can you see all that after only one day?"

Danny's expression turned wistful as he bit his bottom lip. "Yeah, about that. I guess I have a confession to make."

Martin shivered when he felt Danny's fingers stroke his hair just behind his ear. "Okay, that sounds ominous. What is it?"

"I know now why Elena and I were a mistake."

"Now? I thought you said the two of you just grew apart. Isn't that what happened?"

"Maybe," Danny said with as shrug. "Or maybe it was the natural outcome when two people should never have been together in the first place."

"C'mon, Danny, we all saw how the two of you felt. What are you saying, that you never loved her?"

"I'm saying that I thought she was everything I wanted, and I was wrong." Danny rested his head against Martin's. "All I ever wanted was you."

*****

For better or worse, it was out there, and Martin would either believe him or not. In the end, it didn't matter. Martin may have to rationalize the whole thing into something he could deal with, but for Danny, after his private revelation earlier, saying the words aloud gave him an unexpected sense of peace.

He'd known that feeling before. Finally admitting he was an alcoholic had taken such a weight off his shoulders that despite the constant battle not to drink, a battle he fought every day, the truth had given him the strength to go on and achieve goals that would have been forever out of his reach without it. This was a lot like that—he couldn't anticipate Martin's reaction, he could only be responsible for his own feelings, and admitting to Martin that he'd actually loved him far longer than he'd ever known was Danny's way of laying a foundation of truth for whatever came next.

That's what his head told him. His heart was another matter. In fact, his heart was pounding hard, his entire body taut with anticipation as he waited for Martin to respond to his declaration. Deliberately relaxing his hand, he stroked the top of Martin's wrist with his thumb, eyes closed, content to let Martin work it through.

Martin's hand suddenly clenched around Danny's fingers. "You realize," he said slowly, "the fact that neither of us picked up on what we had going on between us makes us quite probably the worst profilers in FBI history."

Danny laughed outright at that, leaning back to look into Martin's eyes. "Well, I'm not going to tell Jack if you aren't."

Martin groaned, resting the back of his head on the sofa near Danny's arm and then chuckling as he covered his eyes with his free hand. "Oh my God, can you imagine what he'd say?"

"I'm pretty sure the word idiot would be used repeatedly, along with a lot of other opinions regarding our powers of observation."

"Yeah, well, he'd have a point."

"Which is exactly _my_ point. Martin, look at me." He waited until Martin uncovered his eyes and tilted his head in Danny's direction. "I don't want to waste any more time. I know things may have changed for you, so all I'm saying is that we need to give this a chance. Yeah, there will be obstacles—"

"Let's do it."

"And I know—wait, what? Let's do what?"

"I'm in." Martin's gaze fell to Danny's mouth. "Early morning wake-up calls, Phillies games, Thanksgiving, everything."

Danny swallowed, thrown by this unexpected offer of a life he suddenly couldn't live without. Martin was looking up at him, those expressive eyes that had caught Danny's attention from the day they'd met now filled with sleepy, affectionate amusement, waiting for Danny's reply.

And really, there was only one to give. Curving his hand around the nape of Martin's neck, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Martin's. Allowing himself a quick smile when Martin leaned into his shoulder, he deepened the kiss, sliding his hand across Martin's t-shirt to his hip, drawing him closer.

It was a languid, sweet kiss, the shy touch of Martin's tongue against his spreading a pool of warmth in his belly that told him how good it was going to be between them—when they got that far. It wasn't happening tonight, Danny knew that and he assumed Martin was in agreement, since they were both exhausted.

With a bittersweet laugh, Danny pulled back. "Now that we've got that settled, maybe we should call it a night."

Martin tightened his grip on Danny's sweater, then he let him go. "Yeah, I suppose so. We still need to figure out how to get you back home, you know."

"I know." Danny stood up and held out his hand. "I'll go online tomorrow and book a commuter flight back first thing Monday morning. Does that work for you?"

"No problem, I'll have to reschedule a morning conference, but my student will probably thank me for it." He waved off Danny's offered hand. "Listen, I'm crashing on the couch tonight in case Clancy needs to get up or gets restless."

"Makes sense. Let's see if we can make you more comfortable." Danny put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Where do you keep the extra blankets?"

"Just grab the comforter and pillow off my bed, that'll work."

"Got it."

When Danny returned to the living room carrying linen from both beds, Martin started laughing at him. He was already laying down, a throw pillow tucked beneath his head.

"What are you doing? You don't need to sleep out here, too."

"I know." He handed Martin his pillow, then draped the comforter over his legs. "But after all we've been through together—you, me, and Snoring Beauty over there—no way am I sleeping alone. Hey, does this thing recline?"

A few minutes later, laying back in the recliner with the pillow and blanket from his own bed, Danny tried to settle into sleep. He could already hear Martin's deep breathing and he let the sound wash over him, imagining what it would be like to hear that sound sharing the same bed, with Martin heavy in his arms after making love.

Gazing into the fire, eyelids growing heavy, he continued to let his imagination have free rein over the immediate future, fleshing out the vision he'd shared earlier with Martin. They'd been friends when they'd worked together, but that friendship had been tested by extraordinary circumstances. Now they could take the time to learn more about each other, to learn everything. Danny already knew how Martin liked his coffee, and that he hated country music, and that he had a secret weakness for those little cinnamon buns of dubious origin you could only get in convenience stores.

Now Danny wanted to find out what Martin had dreamed about being when he grew up, and what he liked to read, and where he was ticklish. And tomorrow was going to be their new beginning, their chance to start over and get it right.

He awoke to a cold nose pressed to his lax hand where it dangled off the arm of the recliner, followed by a warm lick on his fingers that made him shiver. That was his cue to get up, and as soon as he'd climbed out of the nest of blankets he'd made in the recliner, he saw Martin in the kitchen, already showered and dressed and making breakfast. He hadn't noticed that Danny was awake and so Danny had a moment to watch him putter in the kitchen, expertly cracking eggs into a bowl with one hand while he read something off the cell phone he held in the other. He'd combed his hair but it was still wet and the black t-shirt he was wearing was too big and stretched out at the collar, and Danny thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

That thought made him smile a little. He knew what beauty was—he'd been married to a woman judged by anyone's standards, including his own, as phenomenally beautiful. But it had been an untouchable kind of beauty, as Danny had learned, a transparent barrier he could never quite get past in order to connect with the real Elena. In the end, that was what had doomed them, their inability to reach that most intimate level of partnership where they made choices together, not separately with the hope that somehow it'd all work out when the dust settled.

Danny saw Martin as beautiful because he was looking at him through the eyes of a man in love, but he wasn't blind to Martin's faults—or his, own for that matter. If they'd had baggage the day they'd parted in the lobby of the FBI building, five years later they'd only added to the collection. The often rocky friendship they'd shared on and off the job had worn away their ability to lie to each other, and with five years between them and the constant stress of the missing persons unit forever behind them, they were coming together for no other reason than they'd found they'd loved each other all along.

Martin looked up from mixing eggs and smiled at Danny, those stupid, wonderful dimples making Danny's stomach flutter.

"Morning," Martin said. "Your back as sore as mine?"

Danny bent over to scratch a patiently waiting Clancy behind the ears. "Yeah, not too bad. How's our boy here?"

"He's good. Everything seems to be working just fine, including his appetite, so no sneaking him any bacon from the table, okay?"

Danny went down on one knee, rubbing Clancy's belly but staying well away from the bandage that circled his abdomen. "Hear that, Clance? Dad said no bacon. But," he lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "if he happens to look away, I'll see what I can do."

Apparently, Clancy thought this was a marvelous idea and demonstrated his approval by walking over to the breakfast bar and laying down next to one of the stools, ears pricked forward as if waiting for Danny's signal.

"Oh, I get it," Danny straightened up and sauntered into the kitchen, "this whole bacon thing is rigged. I bet he gets some every morning and you're just trying to make me the fall guy now so you don't feel guilty."

Martin held his arms out from his sides. "Damn, you're on to me. You are still one mighty fine detective."

"Shut up," Danny said. He slid his arms around Martin's waist and pulled him close. "And good morning."

They shared a quick kiss—the casual, I-love-you kind of kiss that brought a smile to Danny's face as they parted.

"I could get used to this," he muttered.

"I'm counting on it." Martin pressed another kiss to Danny's lips before turning away to pick up a spatula. "Sorry there's no time to shower before breakfast. I wanted to wake you up earlier but Clancy thought we should let you sleep. Do you want some orange juice? Glasses are in the cupboard to your right."

They made breakfast together and sat down, the whole day ahead of them to plan and enjoy. If there wasn't as much of the breathless anticipation that Danny and Elena had started out with, it was more than compensated by the bone-deep contentment that seemed to be growing with every moment spent in Martin's company.

Then there was the sheer luxury of knowing that sooner or later, that afternoon or maybe after dinner, they'd take that most intimate of steps, the one Danny knew would bind them together as they were always meant to be. Danny wasn't exactly new to thinking that Martin was attractive—the dimples, the blue eyes, the broad shoulders—he'd taken notice from the moment Jack had introduced the newbie from Seattle to the team. Of course, Sam had noticed the same things, and although it'd been painful to watch that play out, Danny had never once thought that he'd be on the receiving end of that all-American charm.

It was as Danny was slipping Clancy the last of his bacon that he heard his phone ringing from his bedroom. He'd left it in there to recharge, so he wiped his mouth and excused himself to go answer it as Martin began clearing off the dishes.

And with that one phone call, the outside world came crashing back into their lives.

"What is it?"

Martin had taken one look at Danny's face when he returned to the kitchen and apparently it was plain to see that their time together was over. Danny took a seat at the counter, phone still in his hand, and frowned.

"I've got to get back home as soon as possible." He rubbed his hand over his face and grimaced as his fingers encountered early morning stubble on his chin. "One of my clients has been arrested."

"That doesn't sound good." Martin sat down beside him. "Is it serious?"

"Serious enough. Frankie's been in and out of trouble for years, but he's never done something like this."

"Like what?"

"Like assault. Stupid bar fight, I guess. They're going to arraign him first thing tomorrow morning."

"And you need to be there."

"Honestly? Frankie's been riding the line a little too close for years, and my guess is that he will soon be a guest of the state of New York, despite my best efforts. It's his family I'm worried about. He's got a mom and a kid sister still in high school. I need to get back and see what I can do to help them."

"Man, Danny, I'm sorry."

"It never changes, does it?" Danny stood up, his disappointment at being taken from Martin's side heightened by the realization that this was yet another lost cause he was about to fight.

Martin got to his feet and pulled Danny into a comforting embrace that Danny returned because the freedom to do so went a long way toward easing that disappointment. "What never changes?"

Danny paused before answering. "You remember some of those cases we worked? The ones where we tried so hard to find someone, thinking we were doing a good thing, when it turned out that no matter what we did, it came out wrong?"

"Yeah, sure. Those were the nights I went home wondering if what we did made any difference at all."

"Exactly. I thought becoming a lawyer would make those nights go away, because I'd always be helping people who needed me." He shook his head, then tightened his arms around Martin, turning his face into the warm crook of Martin's neck and inhaling his clean, soapy scent. "It never gets better."

"It will," Martin murmured, "it will." And Danny believed him, because this happened, this amazing, unlooked-for miracle between them happened, and that's what Danny held on to, that and Martin's hand, during the drive to DCA later that morning.

Arriving home in the early evening with three pages of notes he'd made on the flight home tucked beneath his arm, the weekend he'd spent with Martin was already beginning to feel unreal. His apartment, as cold and unwelcoming as the day he'd moved in, felt like alien territory, so different than Martin's home, where everything was warm and comfortable. He'd taken this furnished apartment the day he'd been served with divorce papers, not caring that the mattress was lumpy and the hot water took almost five minutes to reach any faucet. With his marriage over, he'd thrown himself into his work, and the apartment was useful only in that it was close enough to Elena so that Danny could help with Sophie—but then even that was taken from him.

He'd just set down his luggage inside the door and turned on a lamp when his cell phone started ringing. He almost didn't answer it, since he'd already returned the calls from Frankie's mom and he had a bag full of hot Chinese food he was anxious to eat it before it congealed.

But a quick glance at the caller ID changed his mind in an instant and, Chinese food forgotten, he answered it.

"I miss you," were the first words out of his mouth.

"Glad to hear it," was Martin's amused reply, "because I've been googling how long it'd take me to drive to Brooklyn and if that technically qualifies as stalker behavior."

"About five hours. I-95 is faster than the turnpike, I already checked. And no, it wouldn't. Not legally, anyway."

"Good to know. You get home okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just walked in the door." He wriggled out of his jacket and tossed it aside, then flopped down in the only comfortable chair. "How's Clancy? Vet appointment tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning before work. He seems to be doing fine, still not up for much, but then sleeping is what he does best. Any news on your case?"

"Just what I got from Frankie's mother. I'll get a chance to speak to him before his arraignment in the morning."

"Good, okay. Listen, I don't want to keep you, just wanted to check in, make sure you made it home. And," there was a slight pause, "I know this is going to sound corny, but I wanted to hear your voice."

Danny closed his eyes and let his head fall against the back of the chair. He didn't say anything right away—he couldn't. Too many emotions were crowding inside his head, but words and phrases that normally would have brought up intense feelings of loneliness had been washed away by the healing balm of Martin's artless confession.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Danny finally said.

"What is?" There was a hint of concern in Martin's voice that Danny was quick to allay.

"Being away from you," he murmured. "Going back to a life I'm not sure I want anymore."

"Yeah," Martin sighed, "I hear that. I've been thinking about leaving Quantico for a while, but now I don't know how much work I want to put into convincing myself to stay."

"What else would you do?"

"Not a clue. You?"

Danny shifted in his chair to ease his back muscles. "I don't know. Up until this weekend, being a lawyer was all I had. I haven't thought about doing anything else."

When Martin replied, Danny knew he was doing his best to sound upbeat. "Well, it's not like we have to make any decisions tonight, right? And you're probably tired, so I'll let you go."

"Okay, just promise me one thing."

"Sure, what?"

"Call me in the morning?"

There was a brief silence but this time when Martin spoke, Danny could hear the smile in his voice.

"You got it."

*****

Martin figured it'd be at least a couple of weeks before he and Danny could make actual plans to get together. He would've gladly made the five hour drive, but there was more to it than that. The infamous Frankie wasn't Danny's only client, and while Martin's life returned to its mundane rhythm, Danny had his hands full.

As promised, they called each other every morning that week, often talking so long that they lost track of time until one of them figured it out and then there was a mad scramble amidst a lot of laughter and hurried goodbyes. It surprised Martin, how lost they could get in conversations that had no real purpose—they talked about Danny's clients and Martin's students, but they also had spirited discussions about little things, like how much spice in Szechuan food was too much and whether a designated hitter should be allowed in the Hall of Fame.

But all of those conversations did little to defray Martin's fear that the return to the everyday world would take Danny away from him, no matter how much both of them promised that wouldn't happen. Their relationship was far too new to entertain high expectations, and Martin didn't want to put any pressure on Danny one way or the other. As much as he treasured their early morning conversations, they still were living two separate lives five hundred miles apart, and even the strongest bond would be tested under those circumstances.

By the time Friday rolled around, Martin was fighting the temptation to throw Clancy in the truck and make the drive, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. They'd discussed it, but Danny had been honest and said he couldn't afford the airfare to fly down nor the time to drive or take the train. Martin had been equally frustrated—he could spare the time and afford the flight, but there was still too much to do around the house and Clancy wasn't up for a five hour road trip anyway.

Their conversation Friday morning ended earlier than the ones before, leaving Martin with a faint sense of dread, that everything that had happened the weekend before had been, if not a mistake, maybe just a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime moment that couldn't stand up to the light of day.

At four-fifteen, he decided to call Danny and find out if that feeling of dread had any basis in reality, because the one thing they couldn't afford was being dishonest with each other. When Danny didn't answer, he tried not to worry since there could be a hundred reasons why Danny was unavailable, so he just left a brief message, tried not sound too needy, and ended the call. When eight o'clock rolled around and Danny still hadn't called him back, he left another message, one that he hoped came across as funny instead of lame.

He was ready for bed at eleven-thirty, but not ready to sleep, so he punched a couple of pillows behind his back and sat up in bed reading, hoping that would distract him from wondering why Danny hadn't called him back. Clancy had recovered to the point where it was easy for him to jump onto Martin's bed, so he was spread out and snoring beside him, making it a Friday night like so many Friday nights, except this time, Martin was deeply missing someone who'd been just a memory to him only a week ago.

At midnight, he gave up and climbed out of bed, thinking some hot tea might relax him enough to make sleep possible. It was a cool night but he was comfortable in sweat pants and an old black t-shirt as he walked bare-footed into the kitchen and turned on the overhead light. Clancy joined him, no doubt hoping that Martin's nocturnal wanderings would include some kind of food, and Martin couldn't deny either of them.

Sitting at the counter with his Kindle, a plate of Oreos beside his tea and a couple of biscuits for Clancy close by, Martin kept telling himself not to look at his phone and to concentrate on his book. A nudge against his knee reminded him that he wasn't the only one up past his bed time but just as Martin was reaching for a biscuit, Clancy perked up, ears forward and head tilted.

Martin thought he heard the sound of tires on gravel and when Clancy gave a soft yip and ran to one of the windows, he stood up and trotted into his bedroom to retrieve the Glock he kept in the nightstand, the unexpected surge of adrenaline making his cane a hindrance instead of a help. This neighborhood had never had any trouble before, but the house was isolated and he'd never lost the vigilance that the FBI had drilled into him for almost twenty years.

His heart jumped when Clancy let out a full bark and ran into the mud room, but it almost stopped when someone started pounding on the door. Easing back the safety on the Glock, Martin shooed Clancy out of the way and entered the mud room.

"Who's there?"

There was a muffled thump, followed by someone saying something too low for Martin to hear.

"Okay," he yelled, "not asking again, who's out there?"

"Who do you think? Unless you're expecting a midnight visit from Mrs. C., let me in!"

Martin frowned and lowered his gun. He knew that voice, but what the hell was Danny doing here? He lunged to the door and flung it open to find Danny Taylor standing there, shielding his eyes against the glare of a motion-activated light, a duffel bag on the concrete step beside him. He was grinning, but as soon as he saw the Glock in Martin's hand, his smile disappeared and his eyes widened as he held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, next time I'll call first. Can I—hey, Clancy!"

Martin still hadn't quite grasped the reality of Danny standing in front of him, but Clancy didn't seem to have any problem with the concept. He pushed past Martin to give Danny his version of an ecstatic welcome, which was enthusiastically returned as Danny went down on one knee to greet him.

"Glad someone's happy to see me," he said. He looked up at Martin with laughter in his eyes, and that finally broke Martin out of his shock. Resetting the Glock's safety, he placed it on top of the dryer and then waited until Clancy was satisfied and trotted back into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

"Why didn't you call?"

The question, innocent as it was, had a deeper meaning. They'd talked all week about how they would work at being together but acknowledging at the same time that it would take effort and careful planning. If Danny had decided to come to Virginia, it could only mean one of two things—either Danny had felt as miserable as Martin, or he'd decided that this whole thing was too complicated and he'd come to tell Martin in person.

"Because," Danny began, then dropped his gaze to the floor. "Because I didn't want to give you the chance to talk me out of it." He looked at Martin, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "And I missed you."

"Danny," Martin whispered, but there really weren't sufficient words for what he was feeling. He stepped forward and reached out, hauling Danny close and burying his face in the curve of Danny's neck. Strong arms circled his waist and pulled him tight, then Danny lifted his hand to the nape of Martin's neck, cradling his head so that their cheeks touched.

"Yeah," Danny whispered. "Exactly."

_Later_

"Danny?" Martin's voice was soft as he sat up, supporting himself on his elbows and squinting through the darkness as Danny walked past the foot of the bed.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

The bed dipped as Danny slipped between the covers, then rolled over until he was flush against Martin's side. Dropping a kiss to Martin's bare shoulder, he slid his palm across Martin's midriff and tugged him close.

"I'd say I'm good," Danny continued in a whisper, "but I don't think that quite covers it."

"Oh, man," Martin said with an amused groan, "pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

He could feel Danny's smile against his skin. "That's not what I meant, but don't get me wrong, I'm flattered." He stroked his palm along the curve of Martin's pelvic bone. "How's the hip?"

Martin twisted a little and was relieved to feel only a slight twinge. "Not bad at all. Where'd you go?"

"Hmm?"

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me yet. You got up and left the room, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Just wanted to get some water. Oh, and I ran into Clancy, who forgave me for kicking him out of here when I gave him a biscuit." "Guess he has you pretty well trained." Curling his fingers around Danny's wandering hand, Martin closed his eyes. "You can take him for a walk in the morning, make it up to him."

" _I_ can take him for a walk? What about you?"

Martin shifted his shoulders and turned his head until he was face to face with Danny. "Not me. I have a bad hip, remember?"

Danny's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really? If I recall, there was nothing wrong with your mobility about an hour ago."

"What can I tell you? I was highly motivated at the time."

Lifting his hand to Martin's cheek, Danny stroked his fingers through the hair at Martin's temple. "There's a joke in there somewhere," he murmured, "but I'll be damned if I can think straight right now with you looking at me like that."

"I know," Martin replied, "I'm having a little trouble believing this is all happening."

"But we're agreed, right?" Danny's voice lost its teasing tone. "About going forward?"

Martin lifted his head and leaned forward to press his mouth to Danny's, and when he realized that wasn't enough, he slid his hand behind Danny's neck and rolled on to his back, taking Danny with him until Danny blanketed him, their legs tangling together.

Danny's hands on his body, Danny's tongue in his mouth, it was all so damn good that the surprising renewal of arousal he hadn't thought possible only a few minutes ago now seemed inevitable. It was a slower ride this time, sweeter, less about urgency and more about sharing the intimate knowledge they'd gathered the first time they'd made love. And when it was over, no less perfect for lacking the giddiness that saw them through the initial clumsy enthusiasm of new lovers, when Danny was curled around Martin as they let their breathing even out, Martin realized he hadn't answered Danny's question.

Danny showing up in the middle of the night despite all the solid reasons he'd had for staying in Brooklyn had clarified the situation for Martin the moment Danny was in his arms. It'd been foolish of them to try and act reasonably when every instinct they both possessed told them to hold on to each other and never let go. Too many years had passed, years they should've had together, for them to risk losing precious time in pursuit of goals neither of them really wanted or needed.

It was in the midst of their first time together, when everything had been raw and new and perfect, that Danny had confessed with a few muttered words that he would give up his entire life to be with Martin. And Martin, drunk on the scent of Danny's skin, had answered with words to the same effect, no less sincere for being mouthed against the warm skin of Danny's flat abdomen.

"Hey." He said the word softly, in case Danny had already fallen asleep. If he had, Martin didn't mind, because he knew that his answer would be the same in the harsh light of day. He just needed to make sure at some point that Danny understood that his commitment was just as strong.

But Danny was still awake, his breath warm on Martin's shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Whatever we have to do to make this work, Danny, it doesn't matter. Just as long as we're together."

"It's you and me now, Martin." He felt the gentle touch of Danny's mouth to the nape of his neck. "The way it was always meant to be."

*****

_Six months later._

Clancy's happy bark of greeting alerted Danny to Martin's arrival, which was confirmed when he heard the front door close. Wiping the flour from his hands with a dish towel, he tossed it onto the kitchen counter and walked into the living room to find Martin setting his briefcase, jacket and cane on the nearest chair.

He paused outside of Martin's line of vision, content to look for a moment. Since moving to Seattle, Martin seemed to walk straighter, his broad shoulders more square, and while he still needed the cane, it hadn't stopped him from introducing Danny to all the parks and recreational activities their new home offered practically outside their front door.

It'd been Danny who'd suggested Seattle, much to Martin's surprise. That first weekend together they talked endlessly over possibilities and the obstacles in front of them but when Martin stated that he had no problem giving Quantico either a request for transfer or his resignation, that had been the first time Danny realized that they really could go anywhere.

At first, he'd mentioned the city almost as a joke. He knew Martin had liked working in Seattle but back then Martin's goal had always been to return to the excitement and opportunities in the New York office. That move had also brought him closer to his family, but having met Martin's father on several occasions, Danny could never tell if that was a blessing or a curse. But those days were behind Martin, his infatuation with New York long over and his career with the FBI at a dead end.

Martin had laughed, probably because he'd assumed Danny would never leave New York. But the idea of starting over together somewhere completely different had captured Danny's imagination. Aside from his clients, the only other attachment he had was to Sylvia and the kids, but they'd moved upstate and he hardly ever saw them. He'd already been edged out of most of Sophie's life and now their relationship was conducted almost entirely over the phone.

They'd left it that, but not before Danny had seen the thoughtful gleam in Martin's eyes. Exhilarated by this sudden freedom, Danny brought it up again later that day. It didn't have to be Seattle, he'd said. Chicago could be cool, or San Francisco. Danny could practice law anywhere, but law wasn't his only alternative.

What it actually came down was he didn't care what he did or where he was, because as long as they were together, everything else would work.

And it did, far better than Danny had ever thought it could when he'd first brought it up. Choosing Seattle became almost a foregone conclusion, and not just because Martin had once lived there. Danny was intrigued by a city so different from New York, and Martin's glowing descriptions of clean air, soft rain, and preternaturally polite residents made it sound like the perfect antidote to a life he'd recently found dark and dull. Martin's eyes had lit up when Danny mentioned it again, and almost before they'd realized it, the decision was made.

Two months later they arrived in Seattle, renting a house on Lake Washington until they found a place they wanted to buy. Martin quit the Bureau but decided to rent his house in Virginia since he owned it outright, and while resolving his current caseload, Danny stopped taking new clients, leaving them both without encumbrances. The Seattle house was small but had an open backyard that led down to the lake, and Clancy settled in right away, apparently having no problem trading one lake for another and making friends with the neighbor's two Dalmatians almost immediately.

It was the kind life Danny had never imagined he'd be allowed to have, yet it was exactly the life he'd always wanted, even as a kid. Martin was his partner in every sense of the word, something Danny and Elena had never come close to achieving. Decisions were made together, fears and worries were shared, and when there was conflict—unavoidable, given their personalities, their history, and their equal allotment of bullheadedness—they worked hard to resolve it as quickly as possible. It was something they recognized in each other, maybe a product of maturity or their years together on the squad, but they both knew they'd been given a chance at real happiness, something that Danny had once thought forever out his reach.

Watching as Martin greeted Clancy, Danny leaned his shoulder against the door frame and crossed his arms. He still liked watching Martin when Martin wasn't aware, little stolen moments when he allowed himself to admire Martin on a purely aesthetic basis. The boyish good looks were still there, the deep blue eyes and the dimples, but the edges had been worn away, and what remained still had the power to take Danny's breath away.

Having finished with Clancy, Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Curious, Danny waited until Martin had found whatever it was he'd been looking for, then cleared his throat, making Martin jump.

"What," Danny complained, "no kiss hello? What are you looking at?"

Martin grinned as he held out the phone so Danny could see its face. "Checking the Mets score. They're up two to one in the bottom of the fourth."

Danny straightened up and walked toward Martin. "The Mets? Aren't we supposed to be following the Mariners now?"

"Hey, I don't want you to go into culture shock just yet." Martin tossed the phone onto the chair. "You don't like the pizza—"

"Arugula and prosciutto wouldn't be my first choice, but I'm getting used to it."

"And you don't like the bagels—"

"Not true, we found those new ones at Whole Foods, I like those."

"And you're still mourning the fact that Seattle doesn't have a pro basketball team."

Danny placed his hands on Martin's hips, tilting his head to the side as if contemplating that unhappy truth. "Well, okay, that is pretty unforgivable, but we can always take a trip to Portland and catch the Blazers." He dropped a quick kiss on Martin's lips. "Welcome home."

Martin curved his arms around Danny's waist, pulling him tight as he kissed Danny with single-minded devotion. All talk of food and sports was forgotten as they reconnected, because every welcome home was something to be celebrated.

"Hmm," Martin murmured as he let Danny go, "you have flour in your hair. What have you and Clance been up to today?"

Danny linked his arm through Martin's and led him toward the kitchen. "Well, in between working on my briefs for the Foster case and booking our weekend in Astoria, I decided to try make that cookie recipe your mom sent us. And Clancy, well, he's been supervising. From the couch in the living room, of course."

Martin gave him a teasing look. "Cookies, Danny? Really?"

"Hey, enjoy the domesticity while you can. If this Foster thing goes to trial, you'll be the one preparing dinner and doing laundry."

"Yeah, it's called making reservations and dropping off clothes at the dry cleaner. Wow, that looks good."

Martin honed in immediately on the bowl filled with cookie dough sitting on the counter. He started to dip a finger in the mixture but Danny slapped his hand away.

"Stop that. Go change your clothes while I get these in the oven and then I can show you where we're going this weekend."

"All right, all right. C'mon, Clancy, let's get out of Danny's way." Martin started to leave the kitchen, then pivoted to kiss Danny's cheek. "Love you," he whispered, then left the room before Danny could reply, Clancy following Martin upstairs.

Touching his cheek where Martin had kissed him, Danny smiled. He leaned his butt against the kitchen counter and gazed out the window, absently noting that once again he couldn't see the water's edge because of the prevailing mist that obscured the view.

It came to him almost as an afterthought, that there was literally nothing that he lacked in his life. Once he'd been cleared to practice law in Washington, he'd found a job as in-house counsel for a local victims' advocacy group, enabling him to do exactly the kind of work he'd set out to do when he'd first taken the bar. Martin was hired almost immediately by the Washington State Patrol's criminal investigations department, a more active position than he'd had at Quantico but one that didn't require putting himself in harm's way on a daily basis, a perk that made Danny a lot happier than Martin.

Right now, the only shadow on their horizon was Martin's upcoming hip surgery. Martin was excited about the possibility of losing the cane but prosaic about the risks, whereas Danny was dreading seeing Martin in a hospital bed again. He kept that particular worry to himself, determined to support Martin without letting on how hard it was going to be to fight off all those bad memories. But he knew Martin would figure it out anyway and make Danny talk about it, and Danny both feared and looked forward to that moment. While he wanted to be strong for Martin, the vulnerability that they brought out in each other, a trait Danny had once thought of as a weakness, had instead become one of their strengths.

Turning back to the bowl, he placed the Silpat on the cookie sheet and started spooning out the dough, making them slightly larger than Martin's mom had instructed, his mind still on how his life had changed. If he hadn't been asked at the last minute to attend that dinner, if his life hadn't been so fractured and aimless, he never would have found Martin again.

The thought stilled his hands, his eyes losing focus as he contemplated what his life would be like now if they hadn't met in Virginia, if there hadn't been a storm, if unexpected time together hadn't broken down walls years in the making to force them to face feelings that had always been there, yet never acknowledged. Would he still be working in Brooklyn, miserable with the way his life had turned out and wondering if there was any way out of the mess he'd made?

Maybe, but it was a useless line of thought. He had loved Martin for years, and loved him more now than he thought he could ever love anyone, and he had no doubts that his love was reciprocated. They were methodically, _joyfully_ building a life together, the lessons from their complicated past serving as guideposts for their future.

Hearing Martin and Clancy roughhousing upstairs, Danny quickly finished portioning out the dough and placed the sheet in the oven. After setting the timer and giving the counter a quick swipe, he rehung the dish towel and hurried up the stairs, anxious to get in on the fun, to hear about Martin's day, and to simply enjoy the contentment this unexpected life had granted him.

_and I can't breathe without you and I don't_

_and I can't live without love and I won't_


End file.
